


Once A Upon

by Genesister (papirini)



Series: Bangs and Thangs [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alien Abduction, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Complete, Food, Half-Vampires, M/M, Nuns, Original Character(s), Shooting Guns, Transformation, Vampire Sheith Week, non-traditional vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papirini/pseuds/Genesister
Summary: Keith is a vampire. At least, he's pretty sure he is, by about half. It's the only way anything about him makes a lick of sense.One day he accidentally gets Shiro killed, only to then turn him on accident.Things only get more confusing from there.Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019.Ch. 1:OCT. 20:Sire AND TransformationCh. 2:OCT. 21:Glamor/BloodbathCh. 3:OCT. 22:Secret/InvitiationCh. 4:OCT. 23:Hedonism/ThrallCh. 5:OCT. 24:First Feed/Eternal LifeCh. 6:OCT. 25:Hunt/Blood BankCh. 7:OCT. 26:Soulbond/Insatiable ThirstThis work isCOMPLETE. Enjoy!





	1. you’re a idiot vampire that I’ll ever met

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles come from the long-lost but never-forgotten story called _dangerous bad vampires on loose_. No, that's not a typo. Yes, this actually existed. Yes, you can find audio versions if you look hard enough.
> 
> And no, I have no regrets as I attempt this.
> 
> Enjoy.

For most of his life, Keith had one fear.

Keith was not and never had been like other boys, not entirely. For most boys, being called a monster or beast was a metaphor on their behavior, an insult. For Keith, it was a literal fact of life-he _was_ a monster. By half, at least, so far as he knew. Though his father had been human-and on normal days and nights, Keith could pass and look human thanks to that-his mother was…

Well, if his mother had looked _anything_ like him when he was in his true form, then there was no hiding what she was, short of gallons of makeup and maybe a razor. Especially if she could rip through the throat of any living animal she came upon with sharp fangs and pointed claws. Especially if she could hear heartbeats through pointed purple ears, or see through yellow eyes the darkest corners of a room as if it were the middle of the day.

Especially if she had craved blood like he now did once she hit puberty, and had to turn into a giant, gaunt, lizard-like beast to satisfy her desire to _feed_. A monster ruled by its base instincts, to the point where there were nights Keith would be little more than a spectator to his own actions as he feasted on whatever would satisfy that terrible need that so often roiled inside his belly. Almost always animals, but the result-and the sating that came from it-was still the same.

Keith wouldn’t have known, though, if she ever had to endure existence much as he now did, in shadows and silence and death. His mother disappeared without a trace when he was a baby, leaving nothing but a blade-and a vampiric hunger-as her legacy. A legacy that, if uncovered, would most assuredly (and-given what Keith was-maybe deservedly) destroy him, if not merely destroy the illusion of humanity that Keith had somehow managed to craft for himself since he was orphaned.

Before that moment in the alleyway, in the middle of a night not initially unlike so many others, his fear had as a result been the possibility of being found out. Being found out, of course, meant being revealed as _not human, _and to be _not human _would mean to lose the small sliver of security he’d finally managed to gain after so many years. Then, he could only assume that whoever found him out would naturally kill him, just like the shooter, who now lay unconscious at his feet, had just tried to do.

But it was not Keith who was hurt, and in that moment, his fear was all about losing something else. Some_one_ else, actually-namely, the tall, well-built, dark-haired man who looked up at him, his grey eyes glazing as he slumped down onto the ground. He futilely began clutching at his soaked shirt and jacket as he began to gurgle, blood dribbling down his cheeks as he struggled to speak.

“Hrrrgn…”

_No-_

Shiro was dying.

_No no no no-_

He’d been shot in the chest and was bleeding out.

_I can’t-!_

Keith was practically losing his mind as he dropped to his knees, hands gripping his hair, staring at the scene before him. Shiro’s blood painted the wall behind him; the bullet responsible was embedded in the brick like a bullseye in the center of the splatter. It had been a thin copper-and-Teflon contraption, retrofitted with silver that the shooter claimed was blessed by the Bishop of Calama, in a bath of water with a drop of Hurtado’s own blood. It was a bullet meant to kill a monster, one that had been rumored to stalk the outskirts of the Galaxy Garrison, attacking and mutilating animals without mercy or care.

In other words, it was a bullet that had not been intended for Shiro. Not in a million years. But Takashi Shirogane was too kind, too curious, and worst of all, too self-sacrificing. He hadn’t suspected that the scrawny foster kid he’d taken a chance on was, in fact, the bloodthirsty bogeyman that had been spoken of in furtive whispers by Garrison students and faculty alike soon after Keith’s arrival. And really, why would he? As far as the star pilot was probably concerned, Keith was, at worst, breaking curfew to go to a party, the existence of which the senior cadets organizing it had done a poor job of concealing.

Perhaps Shiro had wanted to tag along to see Keith finally make friends. Maybe he was concerned that Keith was going off to do something else that could put him in unnecessary danger. Then again, it didn’t matter what Shiro had been thinking, now. Keith’s actions had gotten Shiro killed. Already, Keith could see the breath in Shiro’s chest slow and spasm, even as he tried to grab the older man and wrap his arms around him. As if a hug would save Shiro, now. Keith knew it wouldn’t, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

There was no way to fix this. It was Keith’s fault.

“Please…Shiro…!”

"...'s ok....hngh..."

A weak hand managed to slide onto Keith’s arm, before slowly flopping to the ground, and the other's words were silenced. Keith’s breath began to increase even as Shiro’s breath became a slow rattle. Shiro was going to die-he might as well be dead with such a final breath. The one person who had put his trust in Keith, and now he was going to be lost _forever_, and it was _all his fault_-

_No._

Keith gasped, then shuddered, as suddenly he began to change. He could feel his clothing rip, and all of his senses jump to a level greater than any a human could hope to achieve, as he lost control of his form. His claws began to dig into Shiro’s back as they grew long and sharp as knives.

_I can’t lose you._

Deep-seated instincts that Keith couldn’t have even understood if he tried-and he had tried many times over the years to do so-seized control. Those base desires that so frustrated him, forced him to feed, overrode any other thought he might have had. This time, though, there was an extra possessiveness in him that he hadn’t recalled experiencing before. An urge to have Shiro for himself-not to simply feed on him, but to keep him alive, and keep him by his side.

Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself looking down at the older-now smaller-human, his fangs bared as his head ducked down towards his neck.

_I-_

Unable to stop himself, he felt his inner mouth dig into the flesh, gulping down a tongue full of Shiro’s still fresh blood. It was different from animal blood, which he was so used to; he could feel the tang of iron trickling down his throat as he swallowed. It wasn't an entirely bad different, though in a sounder, less panicked state of mind, Keith would be revolted, even inconsolable, as to what he was doing. Aside from it being human blood, the most taboo of all for him as a half-human himself, it was _Shiro's_ blood he was ingesting. Shiro, whose pulse he could feel fading beneath the skin until it stopped completely.

Just as he finished his third gulp of his abrupt, inexplicable, and shameful meal, he felt something else happen in his mouth that had never occurred before-namely, the fact that his tongue abruptly _split_, like a hot dog bun. At the same time, he could feel another, smaller, smoother appendage slide out from the newly-made hole. He could feel it reflexively poking at Shiro’s neck, like a needle in a doctor’s office, despite him not even willing it to do so.

_Wh-!?_

Then-again, without any voluntary thought from Keith-the strange new body part struck, jabbing deep into Shiro’s jugular, and for a moment, Keith found himself unable to move away as blood and black bile spurted out with a shudder. It was only when he relaxed and let the appendage discharge…whatever it was discharging that he was able to finally collect his wits and dislodge himself, feeling the strange mouth organ slip back into his tongue.

He dazedly leaned back and away from the body as he looked down at himself, trying to figure out what in the world was inside his tongue, even as the strange hydrostat stuck itself back together when he brought it back into his mouth, as if it never split to begin with. That was…new. He didn’t know whether it was hunger, or whether it was the added possessiveness he was feeling towards Shiro. Or whether it was the simple fact it was _Shiro_, whose body was barely even cold. Shiro, who had, in his final moments before his inevitable brain death, had been subjected to Keith’s true form and hunger. It was this realization that caused Keith to gasp again, this time in horror, as he finally came back to his senses. He skittered back a good half a foot from the corpse, on his behind, and looked down at his now-bloodied claws.

Shiro, the only person who had ever believed in Keith. Shiro, the man that gave Keith hope for the first time in years that everything could be all right. And like the uncontrollable, monstrous vampire he was, he betrayed Shiro’s trust, destroyed Shiro because of his secret, and then worst of all he’d _sucked on Shiro’s blood_-

Keith didn’t get to finish that thought before a hand suddenly grabbed him from below, yanking him back towards the body.

“_GNAUU**UUUGH**_!!”

Keith almost took his arm back from the violent action, nearly jumped up and ran away as the sound pierced through the alley and up into the sky. He would have, had it been anyone else. But not this time. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. The grip was too strong, and Shiro...

The raw, wet, strangled scream had come from Shiro as he suddenly began to convulse on the ground in violent throes, eyes wide as saucers and pupils entirely gone as they stared upwards at nothing. The blood dribbling from his mouth became frothy with white, then with a sickly glowing purple, as his body flopped around and smashed into the ground. And his heart-Keith could hear it start to pump wild and fast, in an erratic, almost feral rhythm as the other thrashed around in clear pain.

“Shiro-!?”

Keith’s voice was small and shocked as he helplessly watched the scene before him. Shiro was moving. Shiro was _alive_. But it made no _sense_. Shiro’s heart had _stopped_. Keith had _fed_ on him. Unless-

The screams became more desperate, and the thrashing increased in their intensity. The death grip on Keith’s arm became nearly unbearable in its strength. Then, Shiro’s back arched, the arc like a rainbow as he lifted off the ground, and as Keith watched-had no choice but to watch-he _changed_.

Gold began to creep into his sclera as his mouth kept up with a horrible, high-pitched screech, and the skin around his mouth and temples turned purple. The color spread like a spiderweb over his face, then down his neck, and finally onto his hands as his fingernails were shredded by fast-growing claws. His clothing began to tighten, rip, then finally give as a massive, growing purple chest, littered with scales and fur, emerged. It was followed by his arms, then legs, until Shiro’s uniform was little more than rags clinging to his increasingly Herculean build.

Finally, large, sharp fangs began to protrude from the screamer’s mouth, and the dread and guilt that Keith now felt plunged his throat down to the pit of his stomach.

“Sh…iro?”

Shiro didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear Keith’s tiny voice as it squeaked out it’s terrified, guilty inquiry. Instead, he let out a scream that was more of a roar, before his head snapped almost unnaturally towards the prone body of the shooter. He let out a breathy snort in his massive nostrils, before emitting a dangerous growl, finally letting go of Keith’s arm as he slowly turned over to stare at the unconscious human.

He began to shift his body, until he was leaning down towards the ground like a cat in wait. At this, Keith’s eyes widened and he tried to grab Shiro’s shoulder with his own claws. Under whatever else Shiro might have been feeling at that second, he could see the abject hunger in the other's body language. He knew what was about to happen if he didn't do something.

He had to pull Shiro back before he did something he would forever regret when he was himself again.

“Shiro, _don’t_-”

An angry roar rippled out from Shiro's maw as he was shoved away without warning, his head connecting to the wall. From there, everything became a blur. He could remember drool and blood that began pooling on the pavement from Shiro’s mouth. He could remember Shiro’s eyes violently flashing bright gold like the sun, as he bore the full extent of his sharp teeth towards Keith. Then, Keith remembered Shiro letting out letting out a feral snarl, further away from him. Then, a human scream, a flash of purple, and then blood, more blood than Keith had ever seen before, and then the smell of iron so prevalent inside human blood-

And then Keith slumped down, the pain of hitting his head overwhelming him, and he knew no more.


	2. and she woke up in the morning and satin said good morning dear

The first thing Shiro felt as he came to was pain.

He’d been shot; that much he knew. But the pain he felt wasn’t that of the gunshot would. It was full-bodied, and unlike when one died, it didn’t fade away. If anything, the pain increased. All he could do was scream and scream, until, finally, the pain stopped altogether.

He knew that normally, when someone was about to die, there would be a feeling of euphoria, and sometimes, one’s life might flash before their eyes as the brain did its final surge of activity. Yet he didn’t experience that. He didn’t feel anything euphoric. Instead, he felt something else entirely new start to pool in his belly as he forced himself to move.

He felt _hunger_. And in the air was the smell of iron, akin to what one smelled when one was bleeding, and the smell of human. Neither had ever before smelled so _delicious_. He wanted it-_needed_ what was laying in front of him, no matter what.

It was that hunger which overrode all other considerations. Even basic reasoning-anything that might have screamed at him that he shouldn’t do it, that he was _human_, that this wasn’t _him_-suddenly flew out the window, as Shiro smelled his prey. Saw him. Remembered it was also the one who had shot him. Why he’d been shot wasn’t quite coming to him.

It didn’t matter. The human was _his_. He would take what was due to him, and more.

“Shiro, don’t-”

He heard the other voice behind him; it seemed to plead. He would have none of it; they smelled like friend, but even if it was, this was not _their _meal. Not _their_ prey. With a flick of his ears, he tossed the source of the voice aside, letting out an additional warning to not interfere.

_Mine._

He knew what he wanted. He was going to get it. He was, after all, so, _so_ hungry.

* * *

When he finally came to, when he was finally himself again, he found himself covered in blood and the tattered remains of his clothing, bullet hole little more than a nickel-sized scar in his chest.

He didn’t know where he was, save that it was the middle of the desert. The shack he’d dragged…what was left of the corpse (because that was what it _was_, that was what he’d _made_ it) to was utilitarian, save for a bed, a fridge, a couch, and a cork board full of papers with strings tied around several push-pins in a polygonal pattern. It also smelled strongly of Keith, to the point of near-intoxication. Maybe that was why he’d thought to come here. Keith had been the one to do this to him, after all. Whatever exactly _this_ was, monstrous and abhorrent as it may have been.

Speaking of the devil, he was quietly coming to on the bed, his own chest peppered with blood, his face and body still large and purple, his clothing also ripped. He looked like something from a horror movie, a campfire story, and not at all like the cadet that Shiro had brought into the Galaxy Garrison.

“Ngh…” The glowing yellow eyes blinked once, then twice, before the whole body bolting upwards. “Shiro-”

He whipped his head to turn towards Shiro, eyes wide and full of fear. Shiro, for his part, simply stared back, his initial shock and anger replaced by wearied-and wary-resignation. He folded his blood-caked arms together, simply waiting for Keith to say something. To explain himself, to explain what in the world was happening with him now. Something. _Any_thing.

“…I’m sorry. I’m _so_…”

Instead, Keith couldn’t meet his eyes, an over-sized tooth snagged on the bottom of his lips, and-oh no. Was he about to _cry_? He looked like it. In fact, he looked like a sad, scaly, purple Sphynx, and Shiro felt most of his indignation melt away at the sight.

“I don’t know what came over me!” Keith buried his head in his blood-caked hands. “You were _shot_, you were _dying_, and I didn’t want you to die because of me, and then I couldn’t control myself, and then you started _changing_ after I bit you and…and I _drank your blood_ and I don’t know what else I did when I was biting you and _then_-”

“Stop.”

Shiro’s voice was firm as he unfolded his arms and held a blood-encrusted hand up. Instantly Keith did so, yellow eyes glowing with fear. It was as if Keith expected him to attack with that hand; slowly, that hand went back to Shiro’s side, and he took a deep breath.

“I’m not-” He paused. “Ok, I’m not…_not_ mad. I am, a little. I just…” he slowly swallowed. “I just _ate_ a man.”

A man who had shot him and threatened Keith, perhaps because of what Keith was, and what he turned Shiro into. It had been without warning and without regard to the fact Shiro was _right there_, had no reason to be targeted in any case, had tried to defuse the situation by stepping between the man and Keith. At the same time, he had already been unconscious by the time Shiro had woken up-he certainly wouldn’t have been able to pursue Shiro or Keith had they simply had it in them to flee.

Had he fled, had the man not shot him, had the man with the gun hadn’t been there at all. Had none of them been there at all. So many what ifs that could have prevented bloodshed, but from what Shiro could remember, the man didn’t seem to care much about preventing violence to begin with. Perhaps he could rationalize it and justify his actions because of that. Maybe, eventually.

At that moment, though, he felt a bit sicker the longer he pondered on it. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro’s head bolted up to see Keith looking at him, his eyes still glowing, but now looking wetter with unshed tears. Keith, who was a monster. Keith, who was still just a scared kid regardless of what happened.

He sighed again, forcing his feelings down. Beating Keith up for what he did wasn’t going to get him anywhere, when it was clear that Keith was already beating himself up plenty.

“Come here.” He quietly drew Keith into a hug, ignoring the strong scent of blood on the other. Immediately, Keith buried his head into Shiro’s chest, and began to sob in earnest. “We’ll figure this out, ok?”

“…my fault…this is my fault…!” Keith’s warbled words were muffled by Shiro’s skin. “I did this to you…”

“It’s…it's going to be...I...”

It wasn’t ok. It wasn't going to be ok, either. Nothing about the situation was. Shiro would just have to make it all right, then. Make it bearable. He could at least do that. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to do it for something so life-changing and drastic before, after all.

“Keith, why don’t you…" _Deep breaths. Patience yields focus._ "Why don't you take a shower? Do you have a shower here?”

Nothing but sobbing for a moment, before he felt Keith’s head slowly nod.

“Then go do that. A nice, long shower, yeah?” Shiro broke the hug, giving the other a wry, weary nod and smile. “You look like death warmed over and turned purple.”

A chuff came from Keith at this, as he sniffed.

“You’re covered in blood too,” he murmured as he wiped his eyes. “In fact, you stink worse than me.”

“Yeah, but I can wait.” Shiro fully let go. “Go on. I’ll be here.”

It was a long moment as Keith stared at Shiro, eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded again, finally shuffling to the bathroom.

The moment the door closed, Shiro collapsed onto the floor, hyperventilating. He clenched his fists, then loosened them, even as he felt his nails contort and change into claws. He trembled as purple once more began to spread over his body, his arms and chest. Ah, did emotion play a part in the transformation? It must have before, and so now, in his panic and devastation, he was changing again. He shut his eyes, waiting for the terrible hunger, the mindless instincts, and the copious blood and gore that would inevitably follow. Just like with the man that had tried to kill Keith.

It didn’t come. He was still himself. He didn’t know whether to be terrified or relieved, even as all of his senses heightened with him changing, and he could feel the hunger for blood, for fresh meat, start to roil as he took in the scent of the blood that clung to his body. It wasn’t so overpowering as before, yet he knew, eventually, he would have to once more sate that hunger before he lost control again. Just like a monster had to.

Before then, though, there were other things to attend to. He breathed in, then out, to try and calm himself down. That was the first thing, to calm down and hopefully change back. After he did that….well, he had to bury the body of his victim, what was left of it. Ensure no one would find it, or suspect him or Keith of the crime. Only then would he take a nice, long, hot shower to clean himself, as best as he could. Then, he’d get Keith to explain himself in a way that wasn’t just terrified apologies or broken sobbing, no matter how long it took.

Above all else, to figure out a way to survive being the monster-the vampire? He drank blood now, the smell on him said as much-that he now was. To parse out how he would-or could-keep this new secret when he was hardly anonymous to begin with, with or without Keith's aid. To most especially ensure that he would _never_ attack another human, ever again. Living with the guilt of one man’s death-no matter how he tried to justify it-was going to be hard enough. It was already like a weight on his chest that threatened to press down, whenever his mind strayed back to that alley, back to the corpse that was hidden in the shade of the outside, beneath the roof of the shack.

He rubbed his own eyes at the thought, feeling them start to mist up. He’d figure it all out, somehow. After all, he didn’t have much of a choice.


	3. and he toke his clothes off to

For the next two hours after Shiro emerged from the shower, wearing borrowed clothing from Keith’s deceased dad, Keith talked.

“My mom…I never met her.” The whole time, Keith’s legs bounced with all the nervous energy that coursed through his body. “My dad said she was in the stars. So I always just assumed that she was probably dead, but even if she isn’t, I don’t know where she might be hiding. All I have left of her is her knife, and...and the hunger.”

Shiro didn’t speak. He simply listened, waited for Keith to continue.

“I didn’t start feeling it until…three, maybe four years back.” Keith paused. “I could still eat normal food, still can, but I didn’t feel right unless I also had blood, or at least raw, bloodied meat, every couple of days. So then I just…sucked on rats in the homes I was in. It was the best I could do. Then I came here, to the Garrison, and I started with some of the wildlife here. Mostly the mice, the viscachas, the toads and iguanas. Guanacos were good if I came on them, that’s not often. But never humans,” he quickly added. “And I never…turned anyone or anything into a monster, either. Not until you, at least. I just felt compelled to…feed on you. And while I was doing that…something in my tongue…did…_something_.”

Shiro’s eyes slowly went towards Keith’s mouth at this, licking his own lips at the same time. Keith’s tongue looked normal, from his angle. His own tongue also didn’t feel any different.

“When I’m in my…monster vampire form…my senses are better. I can hear heartbeats, smell different types of animals. I’m also faster in that form, and a lot stronger.” Keith’s shoulders heaved in a sigh. “It’s also the only form I can drink blood in. My teeth aren’t sharp enough otherwise.”

Shiro stayed silent, could feel Keith’s tension rise at his lack of response. When Keith didn’t keep going, he looked up at the other, eyebrows rising upwards.

“And…that’s it?”

“Yeah.” The bouncing increased in speed-a sign he was more nervous, but not necessarily lying. “That’s all I know. I’m sorry I’m not much help, but I’m not exactly an expert on myself.”

_An expert._

An idea popped into Shiro’s head at that. A terrible one, granted. Probably one of the worst ones he ever had. But if he was going to get anywhere on explaining what happened to him-and, just maybe, help to alleviate Keith’s own pain as well as his own-he needed more answers. He-they-needed a means of gaining those answers.

They needed an outside opinion.

“Keith.” Keith’s eyes slowly looked up to Shiro’s as the other spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” The answer was shockingly immediate, as if second nature to Keith. “Why?”

“Because,” Shiro took a deep breath. “I have an idea. First things first, we’re both calling in sick. Then…”

* * *

“This is a bad idea.”

“It’s the best I have, Keith. You have to trust me on this.”

Shiro couldn’t blame Keith for his worry as they both stared at the door. It wasn’t a particularly special door-it was the same standard wooden door installed on every front porch with every housing unit in every housing area on-base at the Galaxy Garrison. The difference is that the occupants of this particular house in the O’Higgins housing area were home. At least, Shiro was hoping that one of them-a specific one, at least-was home.

“No one is answering.” Keith said as Shiro rang the doorbell. His tone was terse, tinged with what Shiro could only assume was fear. “Ok, we tried. Let's go.”

“_Wait_ a second!” He understood Keith’s worry about letting anyone in on the secret. Really, he did. Shiro’s own stomach was in his throat. “I just pressed the button-”

Keith was already half-turned as the door opened, revealing a short, yawning man with glasses perched on the top of his head. Oh. Not Sam. Of course.

“Shiro?” The short man blinked beneath his mousy hair. “Uh, nice vest. Ugly dye job, though. What are you doing here? Adam’s been looking for you-”

Oh, right. The hair. Shiro awkwardly carded his hands through it. That had been the least of his worries when he’d woken up; in fact, he’d barely noticed. Now that Matt mentioned it, though, he probably needed to consider hair dye if he had any hope of keeping this under wraps. If hair dye even worked anymore on his hair, that is.

“…Right. Matt. I need your help.” He could sense Keith trying to subtly shuffle off while he wasn’t looking. His hand went to grab Keith’s collar to corral him back to the porch, resulting in Keith giving a little growl towards the older. “So does Keith. You and Sam are the only ones we can trust with our situation.”

“Uh.” Matt’s hands slowly adjusted his glasses until they were sitting properly on his face. “Ok, what's the situation?”

“I’ll explain if you let us inside. But seriously, Matt.” Shiro’s voice lowered, his eyebrows furrowing as he leaned in. “I mean it. What we need to talk about has to be a _secret_ and it goes double for you, ok?”

“…Are we talking a ‘hey last night I got so drunk I hit on my best friend’s mother’ secret, or a ‘hi I have an undisclosed autoimmune disorder that will kill me in ten years’ secret?” Matt’s eyes widened as they looked to Keith, then back to Shiro. “Because, no offense, Shiro, but knowing you the answer could be both.”

“…Let’s just go with both,” Shiro could feel Keith’s eyes look over at him at the ‘autoimmune disorder’ part of the question, boring into him, as he scrubbed his face with his hands. “Just…can we come in right now?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on in.” Matt waved them both into the comfort of the Holts’ living room, before closing the front door behind him. “So, uh, other guy. You’re…Karl, right? You’re a cadet. The one Shiro scouted awhile back.”

“_Keith_.” The other grit their teeth. “My name’s Keith.”

“Right. Keith. Have a seat!” Matt hopped onto a love seat, feet dangling off the side. “So, what’s this big secret you two have to tell me?”

Neither of them sat. Shiro took a deep breath, feeling himself flush. He looked over at Keith, who had also turned red, and was looking away. Before he knew it, he had a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Keith.” There was a shudder from the touch, but Keith didn’t move away entirely. “We have to show him.”

“No.” Keith’s voice broke as he spoke that word, as did what was left of Shiro’s heart at the terror laden in that single word. “I _can’t._”

“One of us has to.” Shiro’s voice softened. “I promise he won’t hurt me or you if we show him. He knows I wouldn’t stand for it. Right, Matt?”

“Show me what? Why would I _hurt_ you?” Matt tilted his head. “Geez, look, I don’t know what Shiro’s told you about me, but I don’t bite, and I don’t generally prank people I don’t know without reason and Shiro why are you stripping.”

“Shiro-”

Shiro didn’t respond to either person, simply undressing out of the borrowed clothes and tossing them over the side of nearest chair. Keith covered his ever-widening eyes and ever-reddening face once Shiro started sliding his underwear off, while Matt just huffed and rolled his eyes at his completely nude body.

“…Promise me again.” Shiro fixed his gaze on Matt. “You won’t tell _anyone_ what I’m about to show you. Not even your father. I need to be the one to do it, if he asks. If he comes while I’m here.”

“Not sure what else you _can_ show me _or_ my dad at this point, since this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you completely naked.” Matt lackadaisically motioned to Shiro. “Unless you plan on doing a split-leg handstand. _Then_ I might be shocked-”

Shiro took a deep breath at this, hoping Matt wouldn’t up and grab a shotgun once this started. Then, he began concentrating on the hunger inside of him. It was still there, still aching, still beckoning. Still waiting for the hunt, and his next victim. It was still not so acute as it had been when he first woke, but it was there, and by connecting to it, by meditating-

He felt his insides rearrange themselves, felt his body change fully. It was painful, and his breath began to speed up to keep himself from screaming as he had before. Bones he didn’t even know he had cracked, shifted, elongated. Agony ricocheted through his jaw as his teeth sharpened; in comparison, his fingernails turning into claws, and whatever was happening to his lower spine, were little more than a tingle. He didn’t fight the change; he let it happen, simply gritting himself as his changes happened in rapid waves.

He heard Matt yelping, followed by the crashing of furniture hitting hard floor, and he opened his eyes. Vivid, almost violent colors surrounded him as he squinted, only to find himself looking downwards at Matt. He lay spread-eagle on top of the now-topped love seat, eyes wide as basketballs as he stared back. The more he stared, the more Shiro realized he was significantly taller in this form than he’d realized; he could feel his pointed ears scrape against the stucco ceiling, and he flattened them to stop that from recurring.

At his side, Keith looked upward, his face also frozen in shock. In response, Shiro tried to smile; with his luck, it probably looked like a grimace or a wince. His body ached, even after the transformation finished. He could only imagine how it felt for Keith, having to do it for years at that point. Perhaps the pain or transforming to feed subsided after some time, or maybe lessened at night. Perhaps it didn’t. It didn’t matter at that moment.

“Oh my god.” Keith finally spoke with a tone of utter bewilderment. “You actually…in front of someone…in broad daylight…”

“Of course I did.” His voice sounded like he’d just swallowed sandpaper. Shiro coughed to see if it helped. It didn’t. “I want to get help. That includes helping you, Keith. You know that, right? That I’d never put you in a situation where you would get hurt if I could help it?”

Something in Keith’s expression changed at that. It seemed to soften, somehow; Shiro could only hope that Keith was truly reassured, if that was the case. He himself wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. It all depended on Matt’s immediate actions.

“…_Well_!” Matt’s voice finally squeaked, a full octave higher than his normal range, as he spoke. “Ok, I had a list of things I thought it might be in my mind. Definitely wasn’t expecting…_this_. So I guess I stand corrected! This is slightly more terrifying than a handstand from you! Also, just in case, I’ve been told I taste like deodorant, so-”

“I don’t-” No, that wasn’t true. He had fed on a human. Ate them, in fact. Shiro quickly shook his head. “I’m…I’ve been turned into some kind of vampiric creature. But I’m not going to hurt you. Neither of us will.”

“Vampire, right, ok. S-so…” Slowly, Matt stood up; Shiro could practically see his knees knocking. “And Keith also…can do this…?”

A nod.

“Oh god.” Matt held a hand up. “Ok, right, I’ll be right back. Give me a few minutes.”

With that, he darted out of the room, and for a moment, Shiro began to doubt himself and his actions. It was all too possible that Matt was calling the MPs to come and surround the house, to come rescue him from the monsters posing as the Galaxy’s Garrison’s most prominent pilot and a second-year cadet. Not on the phone, of course-that would take too long. Every housing area had a silent alarm system that could be activated with the push of a discreet button. The average time it would take after that for backup to arrive was less than three minutes.

Thus, Shiro let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding as a relieved huff when Matt returned five minutes later, not with a gun, not with the army, but with a massive bottle of pisco and his laptop.

“Ok.” The human proceeded to drop into another love seat that wasn’t overturned, popped the bottle open, and flipped his laptop up. “Let’s get started on discerning what, exactly, type of vampires you are. If you’re even vampires. I’m going to need all the information I can get before I can create any kind of proper empirical study on you two, and that will take some time to compile.”

“I…” Keith seemed taken aback. “What does the booze have to do with-”

“Oh, uh, yeah, the alcohol’s a…vector. A vector of…the…I’m totally not using this as an excuse to drink something stiff before I do any actual work…kind. This is all part of my scientific method. Yup.”

He paused, before taking a long, deep swig.

“Sure it is.” Shiro felt his shoulders relax. He was pretty sure now that he’d made the right choice. “You going to share any of that with the class?”

“You sure you want some, hotshot? I already spit in it.”

“We don’t care.”

“Uuuuugh!” Matt slid down in his seat. “Fiiine, you guys can have some. I’ll add ‘can vampires drink booze’ as part of my hypothesis. The drink glasses are in the cupboard by the kitchen sink, second shelf.”

“Um.” Finally, Keith stepped up, still looking absolutely baffled. Probably due to the fact Matt wasn’t trying to kill them, Shiro figured. “I’ll get them.”

With that, Keith was shuffling off to the kitchen, and soon enough, there was the clanking of glasses echoing through to the living room.

“I’m about to study _vampires_…of all the things…” Matt mumbled and took another swig of pisco, as Shiro carefully went to sat down on the couch, mindful of his claws as they pressed against the armrest. “This is, like, beyond nuts. You re going to freaking _owe_ me, like, five steak dinners for this.”

Shiro nearly let out a yelp as he felt himself sit on something that resulted in lower spine pain. Standing up to look behind him, he found a long, lizard-like tail attached to him, slapping indignantly against the couch cushions.

“And I’m not talking little dinky filet meals that you get at a chain steakhouse, Captain Shirogane.” Slowly, Shiro sat himself down, giving his tail time to move and curl over the back of the couch, as Matt continued. “Oooooh no no no _no_, I’m talking _Wagyu ribeye_, the kind you have to take me to Osaka to get! Ooh, and I get to have _geoduck_ nigiri while we’re there! Yeah, you better hope you can turn into a really big bat because otherwise, I’m going to make you pay for the airfare to get there, too…and book the hotels…make all the dinner reservations…and buy the souvenirs…”

Whatever tension Shiro still had in him slowly melted as the moments went on, Matt’s rambling continued, and pisco was poured. He was sure he made the right decision in entrusting Matt with his-and Keith’s-burden.

“Your Garrison ID gets you discounts in certain department stores, right? I’m going to buy new socks for the trip...”

_Mostly_ sure. Shiro had the feeling his wallet would beg to differ by the time this was over, if Matt had his way.


	4. on front of her parents and the people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Monday was my birthday. Yesterday was [her](https://66.media.tumblr.com/9a57c5377c0efa33d223f2041b11a376/9c374e1fb922ec6c-b8/s500x750/f5f0e68187010509568fbe33177084fd4a3563ca.gifv) birthday. 
> 
> I wonder if anyone is celebrating their birthday today, fictional or otherwise. Hm.
> 
> 8D

Keith shifted from thinking that revealing himself and Shiro to Matthew Holt was the worst idea, to thinking that revealing himself and Shiro to Matthew Holt was the second dumbest idea.

“Ok, here we go. Eat it, the whole thing.” He stared blankly at the piece of garlic that was practically being shoved down his throat as Matt talked. He started coughing as the effect of the herb caused his sinuses to light up “Any tingling, numbness, sudden and inexplicable sensation of your organs combusting?”

“No-_choo_!” Keith began a succession of sneezes. “I don’t-_choo!_-this is ridi-_choo!_-why are you making me do-_choo!_-this!?”

“Are you sure?” Suddenly, Matt was up in his face, expression wrinkling with concern. “You look like you’re having a tough time.”

“You fed us both an-” Shiro’s own protest was marked with coughing. “You gave us an entire clove to chew and swallow, Matt! That’s why!”

“Hmm…good point.” Matt tapped his chin, before scribbling a note on his pad. “I’m going to mark this as a ‘maybe’ until the pizza’s done.”

Keith responded with a snot-filled glare. Despite his protests to the contrary, the so-called tests Matthew Holt was devising, apparently to test their vampirism, felt slipshod at best, like half-drunk shenanigans if one was going for a median, and deliberately designed to mess with the two of them (or, at least mess with Shiro) at worst. They were ridiculous, consisting of things like splashing their faces with a bucket of water (“ok, running water doesn’t burn you, but it does make you look like a drowned rat!”), throwing rice on the floor (“What? You don’t want to count the-ack, ok, I’ll get the vacuum, geez!”), making them look themselves in the mirror (“Heheh, Shiro, you should see your expression-oh, wait, you can! _Ha_!”), making them look directly into a UV flashlight (“gift from my mom, isn’t it cool? She uses it to grow plants in artificial conditions…”), and some weird invitation test that involved them simply walking into and out of the bathroom (“I’d use my sister’s room as our test setting, but she’d probably kill me if she found your dander in there. Oooh, note to self, I should see if your fur patches shed sometime!”)

Not that _everything_ he did was ridiculous, but Keith thought the other, less insane tests were meaningless as well. Sure, asking about their history before and after they started becoming blood drinkers made sense (though neither of them mentioned the man who shot Shiro). However, things like checking their heart rate, for example, or asking about eating habits, or poking their teeth while in their true forms, seemed utterly pedantic when one was, well, _a vampire_. Even Shiro was beginning to look a little miffed as he continued coughing from the clove he was fed.

The most embarrassing and annoying thing of all was that they had been doing this all while nude. Since there was a lot of painful shifting involved, they couldn’t keep their clothing on. Shiro was trying to be especially cautious, since the clothing Keith had given him were his late dad’s; even when Matt said he could briefly put pants on he refused, out of fear of involuntarily changing.

Keith couldn’t help but blush, just a bit, when he thought about that small but significant act of respect.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled once he finally recovered enough from the garlic. “How does this even help us?”

“It helps a _lot_!” Matt was back on his laptop, typing away. “Look, a lot of what I’m using is based on what’s allegedly known about vampires from all over the world. This isn’t exactly the type of information that’s been subjected to intense scientific rigor. It’s mostly folklore and fictional literature that I have to work with as my baseline! And already I’ve disproven, like, two dozen things about vampires thanks to you two. Well,” He glanced over at Keith, “vampires _and_ half-vampires, if what you told me is right.”

“Really?” Shiro frowned as he poured himself another glass of pisco. “We’re not exactly an ideal sample size, Matt.”

“This is not exactly an ideal scientific study, but you work with what you got. My research has not been entirely futile. For example,” Matt turned the monitor of his laptop around. “I managed to peg that you guys actually _have_ a heartbeat!”

“Wh-” Keith’s brain needed to restart at that. “Wait, we do?”

“Yup! It’s just super, _super_ slow and Shiro’s is a little slower than yours. It’s akin to the type of BPM you’d see in a hibernating animal.” Indeed, the lines of what Keith assumed was his heartbeat seemed to flat line, then track a normal beat, only to go back to a flat line. “Which could explain why vampires were sometimes thought to be pale back in the day, they were conserving energy and oxygen. Also explains why people would assume they had no heartbeat.”

“Ok, that’s…” Keith swallowed. So, he did have a heartbeat. Years of doctors shrugging their inability to find his heartbeat or blood pressure at all made sense, now. Outside of ‘we don’t actually care to understand why we can’t take your vitals’. “That’s…good, right? Bad?”

“Well, it means that getting impaled in the chest will probably kill you regardless.” Matt was so _comforting_ about all of this, Keith sourly thought. “But aside from that, you seem to not be affected by traditional vampire weaknesses, other than some enhanced photosensitivity to bright lights.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? There’s still one more weakness we have to test!” Matt took out a large, heavy crucifix. “And that is-”

“**THE POWER OF VISA COMPELS YOU! HIYAAAAAAH!**”

A sudden flash of movement. Abrupt shouting that seemed to come from nowhere. Instantly, Keith’s instincts flared, and somehow all he could think to do was _protect_ and _defend his Shiro_. He paid no heed to the pain of his body changing, or the fact another set of his clothes were ruined, as he charged at the offending figure who was attacking Shiro, slamming them to the ground. Their weapon flew out of their hand, sliding towards the nearest wall.

“Keith, _no_-!”

He was on top of the would-be attacker, snarling with teeth bared and spittle flying, when he felt Shiro’s hand grab his shoulder. Heard Shiro’s shocked tone. Sensed Shiro’s desire for him to stand down. Instantly he came back to himself, staring down at the person beneath him. The terror in the other’s eyes was palpable.

_Oh god…_

No bite marks on them, though. No injuries at all. Thank goodness he’d been stopped, Keith thought with a shudder as he let Shiro untangle him from his almost-victim. That had been too close for comfort.

“It’s ok.” Shiro’s murmurs helped to calm Keith down further as a pair of arms folded around him. “She isn’t an enemy, she didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see? C’mere. There we go, we’re good.”

Keith silently let himself be drawn into Shiro’s hug, burying his head into Shiro’s shoulder with a shaky sigh. He let himself be enveloped in the scent of his Shiro, and it calmed him down even further. Soon enough, he could feel himself change back into-wait.

_His_ Shiro? When did _that_ happen?

“We’re ok, Matt. We just had a little scare.”

That made no sense. Shiro didn’t _belong_ to him.

“_PIDGE_!” Matt, meanwhile, was on his feel, yelling at the person on the floor. “What are you doing here!?”

“Uh…” Keith watched as a girl with a long brunette ponytail sat up, eyes still wide, and she dusted herself off. “I live here?”

“You should, uh…” Matt’s arms flailed towards random directions. “You know, be in _school_!?”

“It’s _Sunday_, genius.” The girl frowned and rolled her eyes as she slowly stood up. “I don’t go to the Garrison like you do yet.”

“I-you-” Matt’s flailing intensified. “But-!”

“Katie.” Shiro’s voice rumbled through his chest as Keith continued to lean into it. “How long have you been home?”

“All day, pretty much. Except when I let Bae Bae out into the yard.” Katie walked over and picked up the item she’d attacked Shiro with. To Keith’s bewilderment, it was a credit card. “Before you ask, no, Bae Bae’s still outside, yes, I know why you guys are here, and yes, I’ve been watching you guys all day from my room. I also agree that Matt’s tests are stupid-”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Matt’s panic immediately deflated at the insult. “Totally appreciate it, Pidge.”

“-no problem, and don’t worry, I wasn’t going to tell anyone about you guys being weird purple vampires. No one would believe me anyways!”

“After the Mothman hoax?” Shiro let out a gentle scoff. “No offense, it was pretty genius, but I’m surprised Sam gave you back your computer equipment.”

“Shut up, Shiro.” The girl broke into a smirk despite her words. “I deserve my tech and you know it.”

“…Yeah, ok,” Keith finally found his voice and broke from the hug, ignoring his desire to dive right back into Shiro’s arms. “I guess that’s…yeah, but that doesn’t explain…”

He pointed to the credit card in Katie’s-Pidge’s?-the girl’s hand.

“Oh! Yeah,” Pidge-Katie-Pidge, then-flipped the credit card between her fingers. “Fiat money as a concept uses arbitrary and theoretical rates of exchange and wealth, even though the items would otherwise have no intrinsic use of value, making it the ultimate in belief systems. It’s all backed,” Her grin widened, “by the full _faith_ and credit of the governments and institutions that issue them.”

“…Then…” It took a moment for Keith to process what Pidge was saying, before it clicked. “So, you’re saying the credit card is…like a holy relic?”

“Well, it’s not exactly _blessed_,” Pidge tossed the card into the air before Matt snatched it from her. “Still, if a vampire was going to be affected by something that relies on faith to work, you may as well use something that the most people believe in to fry them. Doesn’t _have_ to be a strictly religious object!”

“That is clever,” Shiro nodded. “And sensible. And I don’t think it worked.”

He turned his arm to reveal that there was absolutely no damage to his arm whatsoever.

“Well,” Pidge shrugged. “If we want to double-check, we could always break Matt’s piggy bank open and rub some pennies on you guys-”

“Don’t even-!”

“You were going to hit them with grandma’s crucifix, how is _that_ better?”

Shiro and Keith looked at one another as the two Holts began to argue. As their banter shifted from scientific methods and receptacles of faith to past japes that resulted in injury to the other party, the two quietly backed away to sit in the kitchen, carefully taking the bottle of pisco with them.

Obviously, Keith figured, they were not drunk enough for the shenanigans of the younger Holts.

* * *

Three-fourths of a bottle and half a pizza later, Keith realized that the reason neither he nor Shiro felt drunk enough wasn’t because they hadn’t had enough alcohol. It didn’t matter whether they were in their true form, as Keith was, or in their human form, as Shiro was.

“Oh! You guys are resistant to alcohol!” The Holts stopped their bickering when they came into the kitchen and saw the drain on the booze. “That’s right, we still have to test what special abilities you have!”

Keith hoped Shiro would forgive the groan that came out of his mouth at that statement.

“I mean, obviously you can turn into cat-lizards,” Immediately, Matt had his laptop on the counter, sneaking a slice of pizza onto a plate. “But can you turn into _other_ creatures? Bats, wolves, other people-”

“Or control the weather.” Pidge leaned in to grab the bottle. Was denied by Shiro, who deftly moved it away. “Or the power to control fire, or ghosts…oh, and accelerated healing. Can you heal quick from injuries?”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, before Shiro shifted to reveal his chest in the light. There was a quarter-size hole where his heart was, and Keith’s own heart stopped at the sight, his ears flicking.

“Th-that’s-”

“Where I was shot.” Shiro looked over to Keith with a quiet eye. “I think I can say that we _do_ have accelerated healing.”

“Wait-you were _shot_!?” Matt’s eyes widened. “When the heck did _that_ happen, Takashi?!”

“Doesn’t matter right now.” Shiro held his hand up. “What matters is…we have accelerated hearing.”

At this, Matt’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Keith feared that they would be pressed to tell the truth. That they had been attacked, the shooter was dead, and it was by Shiro’s hand.

“…Six.” Instead, Matt grumbled as he went back to his laptop. “_Six _Wagyu ribeyes, Shiro. I’m keeping a tally of what you owe me when you take me to Osaka.”

“Hey,” Pidge pouted. “I’m helping too. What do _I_ get for all this?”

“You get a loving brother who will totally buy you a kimono or something on his trip.”

“Ha.” Pidge looked over at Keith. “Hey, you think you have thrall powers?”

“Thrall?” Keith blinked. “You mean, like, can I hypnotize people?”

“Yeah!” Pidge pointed to Matt. “If you do, hypnotize him into bringing me with him on his trip.”

“Hey! No! Bad!” Matt pointed back at Pidge. “How about you hypnotize _her_ into giving back my custom D-Box?! She refuses to return it!”

“You turned _my_ D-Box into a brick!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Matt threw his hands up. “You said you wanted it to be green, and I was obliging you for your birthday!”

“You _spray-painted_ the universal motherboard and caused it to spark!” Pidge threateningly poked Matt. “And I got in trouble for it when the firefighters had to come put it out! Worst birthday present ever!”

“Still better than that atrocious dinosaur mug you made for me…”

“I was _five_ when I made that!”

“Yeah, well-”

“Hey.” At this, Keith stood up to his full height, crossing his arms. His eyes narrowed dangerously at the two. “How about I hypnotize you _both_ so you stop arguing.”

If he was a vampire, a true vampire, then perhaps he had that power. He’d never thought to try finding out before-never even thought that he had that kind of power, actually, even after reading what vampire literature he could-but for once, he was ok with exploring the possibility that he could bend the minds of men to his will. He concentrated on the Holts, feeling his eyes glowing bright as he did so. He summoned what willpower he had to impose, so he might get them to finally shut up. Or, at the very least, stop fighting over useless, stupid things.

For a moment, both Holts stared back at him, emotionless and not moving. For a moment, it seemed like Keith’s theoretical power was working.

Then they both burst out laughing.

“PFFFFFT-!” Mat held his stomach as tears began to form in his eyes. “Oh my god, Keith, you look so ridiculous!”

“It’s like seeing a constipated cat!” Pidge covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, bless you, Keith, you are _trying_, I can _tell_, but..._ahahaha_!...I don’t think you have hypnotic powers…”

Keith’s ears flattened back as he looked over at Shiro. Even Shiro had a bemused smile, the traitor.

“_I_ thought you looked cute-”

Shiro was interrupted by a scream, followed by the sound of glass breaking and eggshells cracking. Instantly, Keith’s head swiveled around, and he felt the blood drain from his face as he took in the sight before him.

Sam and Colleen Holt, for their part, stared back at Keith, their faces ashen. Colleen’s hands were shaking, and beneath her, a river of egg yolks and vinegar began leaking out of the fallen grocery bags.

“Uh…uh oh.” Keith heard Matt start to back away from the table, and thus Keith. “So, um…robbers? Ok, maybe not robbers, you see, the pisco bottle was empty when I-ok, not working, you canHYPNOTIZETHEM_NOWBYESHIROSEEYOUATWORK_!”

“HEY-! Don’t leave _me_ here, jerk-I didn’t-” Pidge’s voice squeaked as, slowly, the horrified gazes of the two parental figures alighted on Pidge. “…so, I can totally explain the naked cat-lizard vampire drinking your best alcohol, dad. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

There was a pause.

“Ok, yeah, it’s totally what you’re thinking. I’m…just going to go to my room now.” That was followed by the scuffing of chair on linoleum and the shuffling of feet, as Pidge slunk between Keith and elder Holts. “Freedom was fun while it lasted. Bye!”

With that, Pidge was also gone, and Keith and Shiro were once again alone to face the music.


	5. and he fed a live chicken from his farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you probably noticed that the name of the work has changed. No worries, it's still from _dangerous bad vampires on loose_. Also less wordy.
> 
> Also, I interpreted how to use "first feed" here a little differently than some people probably would (i.e. first feed that isn't all by oneself as opposed to first feed _ever_) but I say it counts.

The good news was that Keith and Shiro weren’t in trouble with Sam or Colleen, despite Keith’s true form being, in Keith’s opinion, the worst first impression ever. Indeed, once he got over his initial shock, Sam didn’t seem particularly terrified of Keith, or Shiro, once he learned Shiro was now a vampire as well. Nor did he seem particularly perturbed to see them both in their birthday suits.

No, it was Pidge and Matt who was to bear the brunt of the parental wrath-Matt in particular, because the pisco Keith and Shiro had been invited to drink was worth five figures and being saved for after the Commander’s flight to and from Kerberos. His favorite retirement gift, Sam had sourly noted as he put it in on the highest shelf where it couldn’t be reached by either of his children. Colleen, meanwhile, was admonishing Pidge for partaking in Matt’s nonsensical tests, and Keith didn’t envy the credit card wielder one bit since she also had to clean the mess in the kitchen.

Then again, he didn’t know when the other shoe was going to drop-because there was always another shoe that was going to drop when it came to someone like him. And since Shiro was involved, that other shoe was going to inevitably involve him getting in trouble in some way as well. That was the bad news, at least in Keith’s mind.

That, and Shiro just flat-out admitted to murdering and eating a man. Which definitely put a frown on Sam’s face.

“…The local police blocked off three blocks in Aylluallqu this morning with crime scene tape.” He looked at Shiro with…disappointment? Concern? It wasn’t outright rage, or at least Keith didn’t think it was. “If it was as bad as you’re implying, it won’t be long before they look at the Garrison for possible suspects. Some of the locals have already been spooked by the mangled animals being left around. If your blood is identified at the scene-”

“I know.” Shiro’s voice was thick, and Keith watched as he kept his head down, unable to look the older man in the face. Indeed, his eyes, from what Keith could see, were misting up as he continued. “I know what I’ll need to do.”

“Shiro-”

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice was low as it cut him off. “I’ll likely have to turn myself into the authorities.”

“But-!” No. No. Keith growled. “It wasn’t your fault! He shot you, and then I-”

“-turned me into what you are.” Shiro clearly didn’t mean it to sound like an insult, but hearing it come out of his mouth still stung badly, and Keith recoiled from the other. “That doesn’t excuse what I did after that, Keith, and I doubt self-defense is going to cut it.”

“But-” Keith found himself failing to formulate an argument. He buried his head in his hands, his guilt coming back to him full tilt. “You can’t-_I’m_ the monster! Not you! Make them arrest _me_! I’ll-I’ll change in front of them if I have to-”

“Keith-”

“I’ll do it!” Keith’s head popped up, his glare meeting Shiro’s stern, furrowed brow. “Don’t think you can stop me, Shiro! I’ll bite someone if I have to-”

“Woah, _woah_, hold on there, son!” Keith snapped his head over to glare at Sam, who merely held a hand up. “Let’s all calm down before we start biting people again.”

“I _am_ calm.” Keith spat out. It was a flat out lie and he didn’t care, ignoring the stare he got from Shiro. “But I’m not letting Shiro throw his life away!”

“No one said he had to, cadet,” Sam replied with a firmness that made Keith want to throttle him and scream at him that he should be panicking because the police were going to come for Shiro. “But I think we’re all crossing multiple bridges at once here. You, especially. If you can’t control yourself right now you shouldn’t be part of this conversation.”

“I-”

Keith’s fists shook. He clenched them. He puffed his lips and swallowed his screams, exhaling as he did so.

“…_Fine_.”

“All right. Now, first off, there’s no guarantee that any of Shiro’s blood that might be at that scene will be conclusively identified as his.” Sam folded his hands together. “If this…vampirism has changed Shiro to the extent that he can turn into what you were in my kitchen, Keith, then the change likely extends to his DNA.”

“But…” That did make an awful amount of sense. However. “But the other guy’s blood…Shiro and his clothes were drenched in it.”

“Yes,” Sam looked over at Shiro. “However, unless someone gets their hands on that clothing, no one would necessarily think to look for it. It’s possible that Shiro might not even be considered a suspect if there's nothing conclusive there to put him at the scene. Right?"

Keith wanted to believe Sam. He really did. He couldn't, not fully, but Sam was making good points. He could only sigh and rub his face as he felt Shiro pat his back.

"There’s also another thing to consider.” At this, Sam looked back at Keith. “The identity of the man who attacked you. Did anything stand out about him?”

“…He claimed his bullets were blessed by a bishop and dipped in saint’s blood. The bullets were…” Bringing his hands back down, Keith shuddered as he remembered Shiro stepping in, seeing the bullet rip through him, only to embed into the wall. “They were lead and Teflon. And silver.”

“It also hurt,” Shiro added laconically. “I wouldn’t recommend getting shot by one.”

“Was he specifically targeting you? I-” Sam’s eyes widened as something seemed to click. “Hm, ok, that’s…not good.”

“Why?” Keith swallowed. It felt like the other shoe was finally about to drop. “Do you know who he was?”

“Not specifically, but I have my suspicions as to who might have sent him.” Sam stood up after a moment, hands on hips. “Anyways…for the moment, we’ll need to set that aside. Right now, I’d like to test my own theory about you two.”

Keith felt his chest seize up at this, and he swallowed nervously at the prospect of having to eat more garlic cloves.

“Would you boys like to stay for dinner?” Wait, what- “I was going to make pizza, but since my _son_ decided to cook it already, I’m making hamburgers. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Um.” Keith blinked. True, he and Shiro had only just had some of that pizza, but on the other hand, he could feel hunger bubble at the thought of meat, even cooked meat. “Yeah, sure, if Shiro wants?”

“…All right.” Why did Shiro look so suspicious? Unless Sam was anything like Matt. Oh god, this was going to be another test, wasn’t it? “I’ll stay if Keith’s staying.”

“Excellent!” Clapping his hands together, Sam stood up. “I’ll go start dinner, then. Just wait right here…”

* * *

So, it turned out Shiro’s apprehension about dinner was, at least to an extent, justified.

The moment Sam placed food on the kitchen table a mere five minutes later, Keith could feel his hunger surge at the sight. The “hamburgers” were, in fact, piles of raw minced meat, its fresh, tell-tale pungency wafting through the air. Pooled beneath the piles on the plate were dark red juices-Keith knew all too well what it was.

_Blood_.

There was an immediate reaction. Shiro’s eyes dilated, and Keith’s own teeth ached profusely. He tried to fight the sensation even as his jaw shifted, his canines elongating and nearly piercing his lips. He'd never fed in front of anyone. Surely he could control himself-

“Here we go.” Sam sat down, placing a pair of tongs inside a large bowl of salad. “I figure we could use some greens as well. Now, Keith, would you like some meat, some blood, or…both?”

Keith let out a happy groan at the offer, immediately covering his mouth in embarrassment the second he realized what he did. True, he really hadn’t fed since before the weekend aside from when he turned Shiro. Even then, it was only a little, and so the slabs of mince meat and blood might have been filet mignon and wine at that point.

Shiro, to his credit, simply clenched his jaw, giving Sam a pout at the question.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sam carefully piled a decent-sized mound of dripping meat, first on Keith’s plate, then on Shiro’s. “For both of you. Here, let me spoon this blood into some cups…in the meantime, Keith, when you get the chance, would you let me know if you generally only have meat and blood?”

That answer was going to be awhile in coming. Already, Keith had forgotten any scruples he may have had and was digging into the pile given to him. It wasn’t quite fresh, but it was still far better than any cooked meat at that second, especially with the blood still clinging to parts of it. His fangs, if nothing else, were out and devouring everything he was given. Shiro, meanwhile, had a gold glow to his eyes as he gave into the hunger and shoved fistfuls of grub into his face.

“Ugh…” He was making a mess. He knew that. After what felt like an eternity, he tried to contain himself, at least enough to answer the doctor’s question. “Mostly. Mostly…mostly both.”

“Do you prefer one over the other?” Sam helped himself to a bit of salad. How the man could stand watching two vampires destroying their bloodied food in his kitchen like a bunch of animals was beyond him. “Or, have you ever tried to eat one and not the other?”

He’d tried, once. He decided once, when he was fourteen, that no, he wouldn’t drink blood ever again. That lasted for a week, with the hunger pangs growing steadily more unbearable, before he woke up in a field with a half-dozen dead cows in his wake and no memory of how he got there. Keith gulped down the blood from one of the cups and nodded.

“Can’t,” he managed. “Have to have blood. Fresh-like or I go feral.”

“How often? Every day?”

“…A few days.” Keith went to get another mouthful of meat. “Meat every day. Blood…three or four.”

“Days? In a week?”

A nod.

“Mmm.” Sam took a bite of his salad, lettuce crunching in his mouth. “Do you eat any greens? I assume you do.”

“Some…” Finally, Keith was sated enough that he could stop for a moment and take a breath. “Some. Not a lot.”

“Like grass?”

That caused Shiro to stop, chin covered in juices, and blink owlishly at Sam. Keith, for his part, felt his mouth drop open. Grass wasn't exactly an obvious thing to ask about when it came to eating plants, but Keith...Keith _did_ eat grass. Sometimes, in the Garrison's gardens, when no one was looking. It was much heartier and filling than the canned goop the cafeteria served, and Keith chalked it up to it being another weird thing he had to endure due to his monstrous nature.

And Dr. Holt just called him out on it, without a second thought.

“How did you-”

Sam gave him a knowing smile.

“It’s what Bae Bae does sometimes. Especially when he’s sick.” He folded his hands together. “Par for the course when it comes to an obligate carnivore, which is what I suspect you two vampires might be outside of the requisite blood-drinking. Unlike my children, I do try practical approaches to answer my questions.”

Both Keith and Shiro stared at Sam, before looking at one another. Then, they looked back down at their food, almost at the same time. As the moments passed, Keith’s shoulders sagged.

“…don’t worry.” Keith’s eyes drifted back towards Sam. “That’s all I wanted to gauge for myself. And…well, maybe this information might help you as well, in the future. Maybe to help you with tailoring a diet that won’t raise as many eyebrows. I can give you some discreet reading material from the Garrison archives, direct you to some local butchers willing to sell some blood to you if you tell them it’s for sausages or ñache.”

Shiro folded his arms over his chest, still staring down at his mangled dinner, while Keith looked over at him. He looked disgusted at himself for so easily giving into the hunger, and Keith couldn’t blame him. He knew the feeling all too well.

“There’s only one thing I ask from you both in return, and I think you already know what I’m going to ask.”

Keith wanted to jump across the table and hug him and protest, to let him know he wasn’t disgusting, that really if anyone was disgusting it was him, the one who started the whole mess to begin with. He refrained, however, if only so he wasn’t sending his improvised tartare flying across the room.

“…I know what it is.” Finally, Shiro spoke, and he sounded so small, so vulnerable. “Don’t feed on any students or faculty.”

“That’s right, and I trust you won’t. I truly believe that your attack on that man yesterday was simply a frea-” Sam stopped, cleared his throat. Flushed slightly when Shiro’s head looked over at him. “-Was simply a _fluke_, born of unique of circumstances, and that it won’t happen again.”

“What about…” Deep breath. Ignore the worrisome sensation in the pit of his stomach. “What about the man?”

“Like I said,” Sam closed his eyes. “That’s not a bridge you or Shiro need to cross just yet. For now, it’s best to relax, figure out what you’re going to do…and maybe finish off the meat if you’re still hungry.”

Keith paused before quietly pushed his food away. His hunger was quenched. Shiro, however, slowly took several more bits of his meat, and a mug of blood, before he, too, seemed sated. Neither spoke as the moments continued to drag, and soon Sam took the food away, having gotten the hint.

“All right, give me a second to toss this to-there we go.” There was the sound of a slide door opening, followed by excited barking, before the door slid closed again. “I can drive you guys back to the Garrison as long as you wash your hands.”

Keith slowly stood up at this, shambling over to the sink to wash his hands. He felt better, yet at the same time felt worse than ever. Looking over at Shiro-seeing what a mess he was before he, too, stood up to clean himself-only reminded him how he was the one responsible for Shiro’s new appetite. His new appetite, his new hair, his new form, his new problems and his possible future arrest-his new everything.

It all sunk in as the sun began to set. He was silent as he and Shiro both got fully dressed once more, and said nothing as Sam drove him and Shiro down that long, desolate road to the Garrison. Even as they arrived, got through security with a well-placed white lie from Sam, and got out of the car, Keith was silent.

“Hey.” He felt Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be ok._ I'll_...be ok. So will you.”

He didn’t respond save to half-heartedly nod. Then, he walked away, leaving Shiro to his own devices, ignoring his instinct to stay by his side, be with him forever, to possess him as _his_, as he made his way towards the cadet quarters. Amid the snickering of his roommates, and the whispers of how he would be punished for breaking curfew and not reporting in that morning, he flopped into bed, rolled over, and stared at the wall long after the lights went out.

Keith wasn’t an idiot. Despite Sam’s reassurances, he knew.

It was only a matter of time, before that other shoe he was waiting for-that he feared, not for his sake, not so much, but for Shiro’s-would drop.


	6. i’ll put a wooded stake in your heart and you will die

Shiro should have known his good luck wouldn’t last.

Sure, he was reamed out but good by Adam, and he was pretty sure that Adam had all but broken up with him (usually, in Shiro’s experience, whenever someone said “this is the last straw!” it was a good indicator they weren’t sticking around). Yeah, he wasn’t going to hear the end of everyone calling him an old-timer or grandpa, or otherwise ogling and making fun of his newly-white hair. Yes, it was a bit weird to have to drive into town to find a butcher willing to sell him blood for sausages for the very first time. And Keith was avoiding him, not that he blamed the cadet for doing so.

However, it seemed that Sam had been right about the investigation. There was no way to conclusively link the blood to anyone, much less a human. The news reported that authorities were settling on the reasonably plausible theory that some Andean foxes had come through town and made a mess with their prey in the alley. As far as the local police were concerned, there wasn’t enough evidence to suggest foul play, and the Garrison didn’t seem particularly concerned, even if he heard the ridiculous conspiratorial whispers among the cadets that it was totally a chupacabra. They were in South America, after all.

So, nothing to worry about. It seemed like there was no reason to panic after all. So Shiro didn’t panic, acted like everything was fine, and all seemed well.

But all of that was on Monday and Tuesday; Shiro should have known better.

That was because Wednesday dawned, and Shiro spotted, from the windows of his office, a cadre of unmarked black compact executives drove up to the main entrance of the Garrison school. One by one, suicide doors opened on the back of each car, and out of each emerged a pair of women. All had black business suits with white button-down shirts beneath; all wore delicate-looking scarves of varying colors around their neck; all had bob cuts up to their ears, and all wore black berets that mostly covered said hair. Each had a sling purse in one hand, and a stroller bag rolling behind them in the other. All wore sunglasses.

To the untrained eye, they looked like well-appointed corporate executives. Indeed, Shiro might have assumed that, without his newly-enhanced eyesight. But with it, he could pick up details that, before the weekend, he might have missed. He could see that their shoes were, in fact, leather boots. The scarves, while delicate-looking, just barely concealed the near-metallic sheen of the undershirt that the women were wearing. On every one of their left hands that he could see, there was a silver ring on their ring hand; he could just make out IHS on the nearest one.

Worst, Shiro could make out the lapels of their uniforms, and on each and every one of them was a small but significant detail: a blue, couche-shaped pin, rimmed in gold. On the inside was blue, with a crown adorning the tip of a sword’s blade in the center; on each side was a fleur-de-lys, all in gold. It was a coat of arms.

The coat of arms of a military order. Shiro felt his breath leave him; _this_ was what Sam had been worried about. Of course.

DARC, of all people, had arrived, and now?

_Now_ Shiro was panicking.

* * *

To put it bluntly, DARC, despite their outward nondescript business look, were an all-female order of militant Catholic nuns, akin to a Green Beret or a Navy SEAL. Their patron saint was, of course, Joan of Arc, that most female of warrior saints. They were answerable only to the Pope and a handful of cardinals and otherwise operated independently around the world. Rumors as to what their operations were many, from missionary work and aid-giving, to regime change or forcible conversion, to outright hunting for alleged monsters and ghosts on the regular.

That last one was the one that made Shiro realize why the women had come at all, and the prospect of facing them was not one he relished. All their members had military backgrounds of the highest caliber from their respective countries and within the order itself; many were also Garrison graduates, which meant any tactics he might use should an all-out fight occur could be easily countered. Not to mention that it was all too easy for the organization to gain an in with the Garrison authorities whenever they deemed necessary to their aims, because of their many shared alumni.

Just like at that very moment, when, barely ten minutes after their arrival, classes and simulations were abruptly and inexplicably cancelled for the day and a code red staff meeting was called for everyone to attend-no exceptions.

“Oh geez,” Matt whispered to Shiro as they made their way to the main conference auditorium. “The ninja nuns are here. _Nun_jas. What the heck did you guys _do_?”

“Us? What about _you_?” Shiro grumbled back. “You up and ditched me and Keith to hide.”

“Oh, uh…” Matt flushed. “That was different, you see…”

“You haven’t been back home since, have you?”

“And have my dad ground me like I was 12? No way.” Matt shook his head, ducking out of sight when his father neared. “That would be the worst thing ever!”

Shiro didn’t reply to that as he shuffled in, finding himself a seat as close to Sam Holt as possible, which meant Matt was on the other side of the room. Once he settled in, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He had to keep calm or he would change.

They hadn’t crossed any bridges yet, as Sam said. No one knew what, exactly, the nuns had. It was possible that it was unrelated to what happened to Shiro and Keith, and these women were just passing through, maybe doing a pitch to the female teachers to join their ranks if they qualified. That was always possible, it had apparently happened before. But Shiro doubted it, as the eldest and most severe-looking of the women strolled up to the front, hands behind her back. She nodded to the audience before she began, taking her sunglasses off and replacing them with a pair of black clubmasters as she did so.

“Good morning,” Her accent was as thick as her gray streaks, which reflected brightly in the light. Shiro winced at the unexpected pain the sight caused. “I am Colonel Maria-Johanna Odile Sberna. I’m here to talk to you about an incident which we were alerted to in the past 24 hours, and for which we are conducting an official investigation.”

Oh no. _Oh no._

“As we speak, we are preparing to question cadets, and we will also question staff as well as part of this investigation.” She gave a smile, clearly meant to exude reassurance; for Shiro it plunged a dagger into his slow-beating heart. He could see that, beneath her glasses, it wasn’t reaching her eyes. “This is all normal procedure, so you needn’t worry too much. With your cooperation we should be able to finish by the end of today. Are there any questions?”

“Ooh! Me!” Of course it would be Matt who raised his hand. “Can you tell us what the incident _was_?”

“I’m afraid that is on a need-to-know basis.” The smile didn’t leave the colonel’s face as she nodded to her subordinates, who rose and walked briskly off-stage. “In the meantime, we ask that everyone stay in the auditorium while we bring individuals out for questioning. Once you are done, you will be released to do as you please. And, of course, we thank you for your understanding in this situation.”

Just like that, the woman was finished speaking, and she, too, walked off-stage, joining her charges in leaving the auditorium. All but four, who each guarded a doorway with tablets, and who began calling out names. Those called were immediately escorted out, and the names were all randomized in no particular order. Shiro realized it was likely to throw people off, in case anyone was attempting to build cover stories or reach out to alibis.

Anyone like him. Before he could even think to stand and walk over to either Holt, Sam was summoned. The doctor quickly shot him a sympathetic, if not encouraging, glance and nod before he proceeded down the stairs. Ten minutes later, Matt was called, and with a yawn he was leaving as well, leaving Shiro alone.

Deep breaths. Everything was going to be fine. Shiro could only hope the nuns would leave Keith alone.

“Captain Takashi Shirogane!”

Shiro’s name was called within ten minutes. Almost robotically he rose, descended the steps, and showed his ID card to the nuns, who nodded and waved him to a pair of nuns who promptly escorted him down the hall. As he passed by classroom windows, he spotted nuns hovering over a student-not Keith, thankfully-who looked utterly terrified as his mouth made soundless words. He gulped down his own fear as he was led to a classroom, the door promptly closing behind him.

“Hello, Captain.” Colonel Sberba sat at the teacher’s desk, hands folded together, as a younger woman stood behind her, hands behind their back. She genially motioned towards him “Do take a seat, there is plenty of room. I hope you are having a decent morning despite our presence?”

“Uh…” Looking down, Shiro slowly lowered himself into a seat that was way too small for him, at a desk that he couldn’t quite get his knees under. “So I remember these being bigger back when I was a cadet.”

“Well, you’re…six feet, at least, are you not?” The colonel closed an eye, waving her hand. “Maybe a little under six and a half feet, I would assume.”

“Six foot four, actually.” Shiro hunched over to lean on the desk. “It’s been awhile.”

“Mmm, a longer while for me. I graduated from here nearly thirty years ago.” Sberba adjusted her glasses. “Well, let us get down to business. I certainly wouldn’t wish to prolong this unnecessarily.”

“Ok.” Shiro took a deep breath, hoping the women couldn’t see his inward panicking, or hear his lack of a proper heartbeat. “Ask away.”

“All right.” Sberba closed her eyes as she took out a tablet and pen. “First things first, and do try to be as detailed as possible: where were you Saturday evening?”

Just as he suspected.

“...I went to check on a party that some cadets were said to be throwing off-base and past curfew.” Shiro kept his voice level, kept his eyes on the nun. Technically, he wasn't lying about the basics, and that _had_ been what he'd been doing at first. “Along the way, I started to feel dizzy, and I didn’t make it to the rumored place. I went to bed, but didn’t feel better by the morning, so I ended up having to call in sick to work the next day.”

“You were not seen in your quarters until the next evening, according to sign-in records. You called in sick the next morning.” She was writing. He would need to be careful. “So, where were you sleeping that night, if not in your own bed?”

“…I was at Sam Holt’s house.” Again, it was not technically a lie that he was there. “The family knows me, and I sometimes stay there overnight. So I went there to recuperate until I felt better.”

“I see.” More writing. “When you were out looking for that…cadet party…did you happen to notice anything out of the ordinary, anyone acting unusual? Anyone or anything at all?”

“No.” The first flat-out lie. “Nothing.”

The colonel paused her writing at this, to look up at Shiro. Slowly, she placed her tablet down, and took off her glasses, staring intently at him the entire time. It made him want to squirm.

“Do you know why we’re here?” Her voice was quiet and even as she spoke. “I do not mean to startle you, of course, but I suppose it would be prudent to tell you that we are investigating a murder.”

“...A _murder_.” He swallowed. They _knew_. They- “Who was it? Or am I not allowed to know?”

“It would depend on why you wish to know.” Her hands were folded again, but her stare didn’t break from him. “If you are truly curious, then that is one thing. However…”

Slowly, deliberately, Sberba stood up straight.

“The man murdered was a lay collaborator with our order. He was investigating incidences of animal mauling in several park reserves and farms near the Garrison.” Even as she didn’t take her eyes off Shiro, she nodded to the other woman, who stepped forward. “He believed there was a monster of some type was the cause. A vampire, perhaps, or a werewolf. Whatever it was, he intended to put an end to the killing. Now, it is up to us to determine how to end it.”

“…A vampire.” Shiro’s hands slowly clenched. He wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t. “With all due respect, sister, that’s a bit preposterous to believe, isn’t it? Vampires aren’t real. And,” he made sure to quickly add. "Neither are werewolves."

“If one assumes there is no basis for folklore in reality. However,” Sberba sat down on the desk right in front of Shiro. Still she looked at him, and Shiro could swear she had yet to blink. “We know better. We have been following a case similar to this for some time now, across continents, over the course of several years. Countless animals slaughtered, their blood stolen and their bodies maimed; the signs indicated a being not animal, but not human at the same time. Several animals have even gone extinct as a result of this as well; as you hopefully know, killing a critically-threatened animal is a felony in most countries now, especially in a protected area. The pope, too, has declared such illicit husbandry without consideration an egregious sin against God and earth alike.”

_Keith._

Shiro’s ears began to ring as it sank in. They knew Keith existed, and that Keith had come to the Garrison, and was there at that very moment. True, maybe they didn't know that it was _specifically_ Keith, but they _were_ aware someone like Keith existed.

Meanwhile, the younger woman quietly brought her hands out from behind her back, producing a bag. She deftly handed it to the colonel before stepping back, expression unreadable.

“And as a servant of God,” Sberba tossed the bag right at Shiro, forcing him to catch it. “I am more than well aware that miracles sent from a higher power exist, to bring hope to humanity. So, too, must catastrophes from other sources, designed to cow the masses into fearful ignorance. As a result…”

Shiro felt his breath quicken at what he was holding. It was an evidence baggie, and in it was a crushed, blood-encrusted bullet, surrounded by flecks of brick. And just like that, he was back in the alley, the shooter aiming his gun even as Shiro shouted for him to stop, then pulling the trigger and then there was pain and pain and Keith crying and then more pain and then _hungry_-

“We must be more vigilant and diligent in our work-“

He didn’t realize he had screamed, that he was grabbing his hair and hyperventilating with tears in his eyes. He didn’t feel himself shove himself and the desk away from the woman, or notice he had dropped, then picked the evidence bag up. He didn’t see that he had thrown the evidence bag away with such force that it cracked the outside window of the room with spidery fissures-an achievement, since the glass was meant to be bulletproof.

He knew nothing of what he was doing, until the gentle hands clasped his shoulders.

“Shhh, shh shh. There we go, that’s a boy. Are you back, captain?” The hands rubbed, massaged, quietly brought him back, only to see the colonel standing over him, eyes furrowed. “I can understand your pain. I, too, have been shot before. And we tested it, so we know it is your blood.”

His blood. But that wasn't right. Sam had said-wait. Shiro choked as realization hit him, but he otherwise said nothing. He had been shot by that man _before_ he was turned. Of course. They had him dead to rights, no matter what happened; they cornered him without any doubt. He buried his head in his hands.

“So…why don’t you tell me what _really_ happened that night?”

Then the door to the classroom burst open. Shiro truly expected a cadre of nuns to march in, handcuff him, and drag him out of the Garrison without explanation, to be shot or impaled with a stake in the middle of the desert and then buried in an unmarked grave without. Or maybe they wouldn’t wait. Maybe they were all armed with stakes, and were going to end his life here. Maybe they were going to leave him dead, slumped over the desk as a warning. Maybe they had Keith with them, and they would force him to watch Keith die first-a horror one step too deep for him, he realized as his breath quickened from the thought.

It wasn't right. Not when the kid he had given a chance to would have to die because of him.

Instead, it was a single red-faced nun who stumbled in and rapidly whispered into Colonel Sberba’s ear. Instantly the colonel’s eyes widened, and she whipped her head to her lieutenant. Words that sounded French-but at the same time, not-came out rapid-fire.

“_J__'m'en vais__.__ Allaï! Faot allaï, va!_” Then, to Shiro, in English. “You will, of course, excuse us for a moment. You’ve no need to leave the room right now.”

With that, the door was shut, and Shiro watched with tired eyes as the colonel and her adjutant passed by the hallway window. After a moment, however, he also spotted students doing likewise, along with staff. All of them looked panicked.

_Huh?_

That was when he turned towards the window showing the outside desert-and saw the sky turn nearly as dark as night. Instantly he was on his feet, with any existential ennui he had possessed mere seconds ago drained right out of him. Pressing his hands against the cracked glass pane, he looked downwards at the pandemonium that was unfolding.

He could see people running around, grabbing weapons, supplies, anything they could get their hands on. One cadet looked like he was crying as he fled away from the building. A DARC had already shed her business suit, revealing the light armor beneath, and was cocking her semi-automatic rifle as she galloped beneath the classroom. Everyone he saw looked frightened.

Then he looked up, and he gasped.

There was nothing in the sky but stripes of purple laser light, reflected off of an unearthly black metal.

_ALIENS-!?_

This day was crossing from unbearable to downright_ insane_. He had to get out of there. He had to face what was happening, help the others, fight if he had to. He doubted that would be able to leave through the door-they likely had a guard there or something. Shiro would have to do something insanely stupid if he was to be of any use at that moment. 

Wait.

He quickly turned and leaned against the door, just to make sure he wasn’t about to do something crazy and idiotic when he could just walk out the door without any hinderance.

“Hello?” He hoped there was no one there. “What’s going on outside?”

“_Nothing!_” And hope instantly crushed as the harsh reply came. “It is nothing which concerns you. The colonel will be back shortly!”

It might have been a lie to keep him there, it might not have been. Either way, he needed to get out of that room. Then, when the crisis was averted, he could turn himself in to DARC and let them do as they wished to him.

Most importantly, he’d have to make sure to protect Keith in the process. In fact, something deep inside Shiro decided that finding and saving Keith would be at the top of his to-do list against the aliens and the nuns. He had to get Keith away from the Garrison, have him lay low at the Holts for awhile. Have them help feed and control his craving for blood. It would have to be long enough for suspicions to die down, and it would seem unusual for Keith, but it was doable.

In the meantime, first things first. He proceeded to the window, and without further ado his fists began to pound furiously on the broken glass. Though he’d clearly put a dent in it with the bullet, it refused to give further under his hands. Letting out a frustrated growl, he turned to the only other alternative he could think of.

_I’m sorry, Keith._

He threw his uniform shirt and undershirt off, and changed, allowing his form to come out in full. As he did, he could feel inhuman, vampiric strength flow through him, and he cracked his knuckles before he threw a punch once more. This time, the glass barely withstood his punch, and after licking his blood off the top of his hand, he threw another punch.

_I won’t let you get hurt._

“_Bouan Giu!_”

Glass shattered in front of him, and he turned in time to see the DARC that had been guarding his door running in, drawing her gun from beneath her suit. Though her eyes were wide with shock, her hands-and aim-were steady.

“Sorry!” He braced himself to jump. “Not into getting shot again!”

“_STOP!_” Obviously she wasn’t going to stand down. To her, he was a literal bogeyman, a monster, with ripped pants that barely covered his private parts._ “_BÊTE VOUS_! DO NOT MOVE!_”

“I’ll be right back-!”

He heard her pull the trigger just as he ducked. The bullet sailed over his head.

“_SOUERS! AVAENCHE TÉ!_” Shiro heard the DARC scream, and felt several more bullets flew by his legs, as he proceeded to do a swimmer’s dive out the window. “HE’S OUT! _VA, VA, VA!!_”

Had he been a mere human-had he pulled the stunt of jumping out of a third story window before Keith had turned him-Shiro knew he would have broken bones and a stint in the hospital to look forward to. However, having fed on the butcher’s blood and meat the previous two evenings, he was able to unceremoniously belly flop into the ground face first with only one broken bone in his forearm and a broken nose. Even as he set both back into place, he could feel his body mending his skeleton back together, as if it were never injured to begin with.

He stood up, shaking the dust out of his hair and off his legs. Now. It was time to find Keith.

He heard some shouting in the far distance-was it Keith’s? It could have been Keith’s, his Keith could be in danger right then and there and he had to help-and he turned to see a pair of glowing purple orbs reflecting his face back to him beneath a black hood.

A hood, which was attached to the black suit of a giant, alien body.

“Keith?”

That wasn’t him speaking. It was a female, speaking to him from behind.

Before Shiro could turn, before he could question who was calling for Keith, before he could throw a punch, there was a sudden, sharp sting on the side of his neck. Then, before he could open his mouth to scream, before he could figure out what was happening, before he could do _anything_, he felt himself fall, and then he heard-and knew-nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I made an entire headcanon for an organization that will probably only appear in this fanfic? Probably. I admit I was inspired by certain flight attendant uniforms and went “austere but business-like black-op battle nuns. Ok. Why not?”
> 
> As part of my headcanon for DARC, they use a separate language to express verbal orders to one another. The words that Shiro thought sounded like French is in fact a currently moribund langue d'oï-i.e. a language in the Oïl dialect family that developed from the Gallo-Romance branch of languages over the centuries, of which French is the most spoken language of said family. So, while there are similarities, they are ultimately different languages from the standard French you learn in school.
> 
> Anyways, the language I used is called Guernésiais and there are currently only a hundred or so native speakers left in the world. Unfortunately, I take the route of the language dying out entirely by the time of Voltron: Legendary Defender, which is entirely possible given the few details of the world we’re given in VLD. That said, in this story, DARC took advantage of the fact that no one bothered to keep the language properly alive outside of Guernsey and have been using it in their secret operations for quite some time now. All operatives are required to memorize it through verbal interactions, and any written form of the language can only be in a pre-determined form of cryptograph.
> 
> It’s a hard language to find, much less learn, in real life, but I was lucky in my Google-Fu to find something that can teach basic Guernésiais, so all one of you linguaphiles who read my fanfiction can [attempt to learn it](http://www.museums.gov.gg/article/150693/Guernseys-language-Guernsiais) in your free time, courtesy of the Guernsey Museums and Galleries' kid's coloring book! And it's totally free to download, so yeah, it was fun.


	7. as his bride forever eternal

Krolia realized the moment the half-naked boy collapsed to the ground that he was not Keith.

She supposed it was a mother’s intuition, though it surprised her that she could have one after all this time. She hadn’t seen her son in years, possibly decades-Earth years were hard to calculate into Daibazaal units of time-and had no clue what he would look like if he wasn’t a baby. Still, the moment she and Kolivan saw the very obvious white-haired Galra defenestrate himself through the upper windows of the military installation, she had felt something familiar about him. Something in his essence. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

Before she could question the man and ask why did he now look Galra like her, why were his clothing torn, why was he diving out windows, who was the leader of the planet-in other words, the usual questions-a large clawed hand jabbed his neck, and he was out like a light.

“…_Kolivan_.” Exasperated, her mask faded away. “Did you need to do that?”

“Yes.” The other, still masked, looked at Krolia with a shrug. “If I’m to understand Earth languages on a fluent level I must have a baseline. Your…_son_ will come to shortly; the effects of the vernaggregator are always temporary.”

“…He is not my son.” Krolia knelt down and turned his face to and fro. “I feel something akin to my son in his essence, but I don’t sense a true bond towards him.”

“Then your son may not be here.” Kolivan turned to leave. “We should turn our attention to making contact with this world’s authorities, and then securing the Bl-”

He was interrupted by a scream, followed by a flying mass that slammed into him.

“**_LEAVE SHIRO ALONE!!_**”

Krolia let out a shout as she saw the blade plunge into Kolivan’s side, and she quickly tossed herself at the attacker, throwing him off her leader as he stumbled back, grabbing at the hilt of the offending weapon. As she leaped on the attacker and pinned him to the ground, she found herself staring at a young, pale, struggling, and very angry human boy.

She gasped as she felt the sensation she had felt with the white-haired Galra, only far stronger. The feeling of who this scrappy young man was.

“_Keith_?”

The response was a snarl, and to her shock, her son _changed_. Fangs protruded from his mouth, his eye bled gold, and Krolia could feel and see his size grow beneath her, until he looked like a full-blooded Galra. Soon enough he was making it difficult for her to keep him down.

“Keith!” Even though she knew he had no memory of her, she nevertheless tried to calm him down. “Keith, _stop_-”

“_SHUT UP_!” He tried slashing at her wrists as her hands held his arms. Then he tried to _bite _her. “I won’t let you hurt Shiro! Get away! GET AWAY!! _GGGGH_-”

“That’s enough.”

A jab from Kolivan’s hand caused Keith to seize up, eyes wide, then slump down, all fight immediately leaving his body. Krolia looked up at him as he withdrew his hand, before gingerly touching the hilt of the blade still embedded in him.

“Now _that_,” she let her disappointment seep in her tone as she stood, “really _was_ completely unnecessary.”

“You had a borderline-feral Homininan who inexplicably changed into a borderline-feral Galra, trying to rip your throat out. A thank you would have sufficed.” Kolivan’s hand wrapped around the hilt, and with a grunt he pulled it out of his body, the purple blood blooming as he did so. “I do believe this is your blade.”

Krolia looked the bloody blade over, and _yes_, it _was_ her blade, the one she had asked her lover to gift to Keith when he was old enough. That, combined with the sensation she felt upon looking at him again, left absolutely no doubt in her mind that the black-haired boy was Keith.

Yet, at the same time, it seemed impossible. Keith had been born looking human, and Galra-half-Galra included-didn’t simply _change_ at will. Not unless they had shapeshifting genes from one of their recent ancestral species. But Krolia didn’t possess such ancestors, and she was quite certain, even from her own limited experience, that humans simply didn’t have such metamorphosing abilities.

Likewise, the white-haired Galra, who was letting out a groan. Had another Galra come to Earth? If so, then the Empire could be aware of the Blue Lion. Yet none of the scans they had run on the system pre-arrival showed any significant Galra presence. _Significant_ being more than 5, which was as accurate as their probes could get. This other Galra-whoever they were-had to be from the Empire. There was no other explanation.

Except there was an explanation, one which immediately presented itself when the white-haired man also shrank, until he was a human that was slowly opening his unfocused eyes, looking dazed and confused. Then the human’s eyes settled on her son, and she felt the _pull_ between him and Keith.

“Keith…” He turned over, tried to stand. “Don’t…you dare touch him!”

Her eyes widened as realization struck her. It couldn’t possibly be so, and frankly but somehow, her son and this human-

“_HALT!_”

Krolia stiffened at the shout, which was followed by multiple gun clicks. Slowly she turned to see all of the armored humans pointing their weapons at her, Kolivan, Keith, and the other human, the last who instantly put his hands up. Finally, after taking in how thoroughly outnumbered she seemed to be, her eyes zeroed in on the one who had given the order, frowning as she did so.

“Put your hands over your head.”

As she suspected. Same accent, same cadence. Just like when she first came to Earth. Certainly older, but it didn’t matter. She defiantly held her chin up.

“Lieutenant Sberba.”

“Karen.”

“_What._”

Colonel and Blade alike ignored Kolivan.

“I must not have been gone _too_ long if you’re still around.” Krolia’s eyes narrowed. “You would kill me in front of my son?”

“Your son murdered a lay investigator.” From beneath her visor, she could see her somewhat-adversary glare back. “And _your_ bloodlust is responsible for the absolute extinction of three of God’s creatures. You are both criminals-”

“_Vampires._” She heard someone let out an awed gasp. “My God…”

“-and in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, by the authority granted by intercession of the Virgin of Domremy, you are at last under arrest alongside your son and all of your conspirators, and shall be brought to the Prelect of the Congregation for trial. You, and all of your cohorts here.”

“Oh?” Krolia’s eyebrows rose at this. “_All_ of us?”

Sberba opened her mouth to respond.

It was then that the sound of the laser’s hum echoed around the humans, several hundred times over. Music to Krolia’s ears, as was the telltale _vnnn_s the accompanied the deactivation of several hundred individual cloaking devices.

Nearby, the white-haired human’s eyes bugged out as two hundred Blades of Marmora materialized around the circle of human fighters, far outnumbering them in strength, size, and most importantly, firepower. Every last one of their lasers were trained on the back of several human heads.

There was a moment of silence, before Sberba broke it.

“Well, _shit_.”

* * *

It took some time to process everyone, and there was a great deal of resistance, but the Blade’s technology far outstripped that of the Galaxy Garrison. Which was a bit worrying for Kolivan, Krolia could tell. Aside from the fact that Earth was hardly a one-government state, and military-wise they just took the brunt of Earth’s best-equipped defensive force prisoner (albeit unofficially and temporarily, until they were willing to talk-Kolivan’s intent in making contact was never to harm, but to _warn_), it was clear Earth wouldn’t stand a chance against a full-scale Galra invasion. They’d just been overwhelmed by a single Blade ship; Zarkon wouldn’t be nearly so stingy when it came to claiming the Blue Lion.

Of course, as Krolia walked through the prisoner hold, that wasn’t the only thing on her mind. She kept walking until she was at the correct cell. From beyond the forcefield, wearing a borrowed Blade bodysuit, Keith glared back at her, one eye glowing and purple veins lining his face, as he and his cellmate sat on the cell’s bench together.

“What do _you_ want?”

He stood up, only for a hand to grasp his shoulder.

“Keith. Patience yields focus.” Not that the white-haired man, also dressed in borrowed clothes, looked less suspicious. Doubtless, though, his own patience wasn’t infinite judging by how intense his stare was. “Getting hurt isn’t going to get you out of here.”

“Me?” Keith turned to look at Shiro, eyes wide, and Krolia could again feel the _tug_ between the two. “What about _you_?”

Krolia let out a sigh through pursed lips. Taking your son prisoner, officially or otherwise, was the most awkward thing in the universe. Taking your son’s _soulmate_, of all things, along with him was a close second. This was going to be _fun_.

“Neither of you will be harmed.” Both looked back at Krolia simultaneously, their frowns deepening. “We have no intention of staying, or keeping you confined in our ship. Once the Blade has finished their business, we’ll be on our way.”

“What business?” The white-haired human didn’t look convinced. “Taking over the world?”

“No. Warning it.” Not that Krolia blamed them for assuming they were an invasion force; they did just pop in out of nowhere. “We fight against a tyrant of our own race who ravages the galaxies, and your planet has an element that could be key in stopping him. It’s gotten to a point where your people have a right and need of awareness of the situation before it’s too late.”

“Why should we believe you?” Keith’s leg was bouncing; even aside from not believing her, it was clear that he was just looking for an excuse to fight. “Why don’t you prove it, huh!?”

“…Very well.”

With that, Krolia took out the now-cleaned luxite blade from her suit, eliciting a gasp from Keith as he leaped up to slam on the cell’s barrier. Before he’d taken two steps, she closed her eyes and let the blade transform into its full sword configuration in a flash of light.

“This blade can be awakened,” She watched as he froze, first staring at the blade, then up at Krolia, then back and forth a second time, the pieces clearly coming together in his mind. “by someone of Galra blood. Someone like me, as this weapon was mine…before I passed it to my child.”

For a moment, he stared at her, a twinkle of horror in his eyes as he took in what she said. Then, his hands balled into a fist and began pounding furiously on the barrier, screaming with such wrath that people inside other cells began pressing against their own barriers to watch what was unfolding.

“**_YOU!!_**” He roared, his body becoming Galra as he raged; Krolia was thankful that the suits accommodated shapeshifting, so he would continue to be clothed even as his claws came out and his tail began to thump angrily on the ground. “_YOU DID THIS TO ME, DIDN’T YOU!?_”

“Keith, stop-!”

“_Why?_” Tears began filling his eyes as he was dragged back by Shiro, and he began to choke on his words as he shook his head. “Why did you have to make me like you? Drinking blood, looking like this…why…why did you make me a _monster_!?”

Krolia’s head snapped up at this, and she stepped up to the barrier.

“You are _not_ a monster,” she said firmly. “You are half-Galra, even if I don’t understand how you are capable of shapeshifting between a Galra and human form. That is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I drink _blood_!” Keith shut his eyes. “I’m a _vampire_!”

“A what, now?” Krolia remembered hearing it, not just from Sberba’s troops that very day, but from Sberba herself, many years ago, when the other woman had arrested and interrogated her human lover about ‘Karen’s’ existence. That time, he had told her not to worry about it, not while she was carrying his child. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A monster.” Krolia frowned as the white-haired man put his arms around her son. “A monster that drinks the blood of its victims to sate its own hunger and gain unnatural power. That’s what he-what _we_-are.”

“It’s not…_monstrous_.” The last word came out of her mouth with not a little distaste. “It’s a natural part of the diet of many Galra. There are nutrients we are unable to obtain and process unless we drink blood on an occasional basis. It’s hardly different from…ah, what was the animal…milking a cow and then using it to make beef. As for anything _actually_ unnatural to our species…”

She let the blade go back to its dormant state before sheathing it at her side.

“I must admit that I am surprised you _are_ drinking blood, because when you were born, you didn’t seem to need it for sustenance.”

Slowly, Keith turned to look at her, his eyes wide with bafflement.

“Wait, you mean-you didn’t _know_?”

“Not everyone with Galra genes require blood.” Krolia sat on the floor, cross-legged, carding her hand through her hair. “Generally, you can tell almost immediately when someone is born with the craving. But you showed no sign of needing blood. Indeed, you seemed to develop perfectly fine with nothing but food that humans needed. Surely, your father wouldn’t have gone without telling you if you started wanting or needing it.”

“…I started when I was a teen…after dad…” Keith sagged in the older human’s arms. “Shiro-”

Krolia stared. Now that she thought about it, she realized that Keith had barely talked about his father. A chill began to crawl up his spine as possibilities of where he was-and what might have happened to him-began to swirl in her mind. What if-

No. No, she couldn't dwell on it. Not yet. One thing at a time.

“…So you’re space vampires.” The white-haired man-Shiro-closed his eyes. “That explains why I can look like Keith and need blood. Like a Galra, right?”

“Like a…” Krolia had to internally repeat what she just heard to make sure she heard correctly. She had been certain she was the only Galra who made contact- “No, that’s not...you surely have no Galra heritage, do you?”

“I was completely human before Keith turned me into one of you.” Shiro’s voice was firm as he responded. “That much I’m certain about. I met my grandparents on both side and they looked nothing like you.”

Krolia would take that as a compliment, for the moment. In the meantime, absolutely nothing the human said made a bit of sense.

“You are mistaken. You _must_ have some close ancestor who was a part of our race to have such a transformation.”

“No, I_ don’t_,” he flatly responded, “and I’d remember if my genetic testing mentioned my having alien cat-lizard DNA.”

“Genetic testing?”

“…Medical related.” Shiro slowly broke his hug with Keith, as Keith looked up at him with a suspicious frown. “It’s nothing to worry about right now, Keith.”

“Uh huh. In any case? You can’t simply _become _Galra.” Krolia grit her teeth, folding her arms. “Surely there must be a more rational explanation.”

“It’s true!” Keith still looked up at Shiro. “I turned him, I drank his blood and then I…stuck him with my tongue. Somehow. Then he was like me!”

Oh.

_Oh._

Realization came to her in a flash.

“You did not do anything to him with your _tongue_.” She groaned. “You stuck him with your erotial proboscis.”

“My what.”

“Your…” There was no good way to put this. “Your mate-choosing organ. The one which only comes out in the presence of your willfully-chosen soulmate.”

“…_My what._”

By the moons of dead Daibazaal, she’d been reunited with her son for less than a day after nearly two Earth decades, and she was going to have to give her son and his soulmate The Talk. It was bad enough to have to think about doing it in a private place, but here, even as both Shiro and Keith stared at her in dawning horror, she could hear the gasps and titters from other cells.

“Hooo boy!” Then someone had to say something stupid. “Shiro, Adam is going to _kill you_ when he finds out!”

Boos and hisses came from the other cells, and Shiro grit his teeth.

“Shut up, Matt,” grumbled as he collapsed onto the bench. “_God_.”

* * *

It took Krolia some time after that to coax Keith and Shiro out of the cell and into a more comfortable room, so they might receive some blood tests to confirm that she wasn’t going insane. Keith was far more skittish about it, but grudgingly obliged once Shiro volunteered to go through with it. Given it was a simple poke-it didn’t even need a needle-Krolia was glad it wasn’t as difficult for them to agree as she thought.

“He’s a mutant.”

“A mutant.” Krolia repeated. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I mean,” Kolivan tossed the tablet to her. “There was an unforeseen and spontaneous genetic mutation which has manifested in your son. Ulaz surmises that this is a result of your coupling with the boy’s father.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You’re a _boy_,” Kolivan repeated more firmly as he turned to face Keith. “And it seems your Homininan and Galra DNA interacts in a way that is highly unusual, even in hybrids that result when a Galra has a child with another species. Especially with the increased need for blood and raw meat in comparison to his body size, and the unusual shapeshifting and accompanying abilities. And since you are the only Galra-Homininan hybrid in existence-”

“Homininan?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s based on a scientific classification for humans, Keith.” Shiro was speaking low. “_Hominina_. I…I think it’s the family.”

“-and we have no information on your paternal species,” Kolivan looked back at Krolia. “We have absolutely no baseline or information other than what we now have from you. There may be more to you than even you are aware of.”

“You could always ask me about this,” Krolia didn’t like the expression on Kolivan’s face. It was like being silently reprimanded by a parent. “I do know some things about humans.”

“Which _you_ neglected to tell _me_, Krolia.” There was an edge of a growl in Kolivan’s voice. “Or _anyone_. We did not even know you had been here until just prior to our arrival here, much less had a child with a pre-contact species.”

“With respect, Kolivan, the Blue Lion’s existence had to be-”

“Your name isn’t Karen?”

Both Blades turned to look at Keith, who looked at Krolia with a piercing glaze.

"That DARC lady. She called you Karen." Keith's eyes narrowed. "But he's calling you Krolia."

“…Oh, yes.” Krolia couldn’t help but smile. “Karen is my, ah, unofficial Earth name. Your father came up with it to help hide my true nature. I know it threw the Lieutenant off of my trail long enough for me to have you safely.”

“And then you _left_ us. I thought you were dead, even dad thought you might be gone for good. This whole time-” The smile vanished as Keith’s fists clenched. “What was so important that you had to leave me and dad? That you couldn’t tell me I was an alien vampire!?”

“You and your mother can discuss this later.” Krolia’s words were stuck in her throat as Kolivan cut in. “First, your…soulmate. Our medic believes your mutation is related to the cause for his transformation. When you injected into him, your discharge of Galrixine-the soul bonding hormone, as it were-into his system must have affected him to the extent that he was somehow transformed to be like us, along with the normal effects of the bond.”

There was silence at this.

“…So, what do we do about that?” Shiro sounded tired. “Can…any of this be reversed?”

“We don’t know the physiological reason for why the soul bond manifested in such a way. It’s likely to be a mystery for the foreseeable future until Ulaz has more data. Either way, with what we've seen, we have to assume this is likely irreversible.” Krolia could see both of them deflate. “Not that we _would_ reverse it. Soul-bonding isn’t a mere exchange of hormones and blood, but a merging of quintessence between two individuals that syncs them together on an intimate level. Severing It is…_very_ painful and likely to cause death.”

“So…we…” Keith’s voice cracked. “Do we just keep doing what we’re doing and drink blood and stuff like this and...be purple monsters...l?”

“That is the only thing you can do,” Kolivan confirmed. “I know that is not what you wished to hear, but it is the truth.” At this, his eyes narrowed. “I would also very strongly recommend not attempting to bond with anyone else, since we know too little about how your hormones might effect other drastic changes in others. We can perform surgery to ensure your erotial proboscis is rendered unusable in the future, if you choose.”

Keith didn’t respond. Instead, Krolia watched as he turned and buried his head into Shiro’s shoulder, his eyes closed. No tears came out, but she could only imagine how he felt at that moment.

“I wish,” he finally murmured, “that I had a pillow that I could put over my head.”

“Keith, no-”

“Not for _killing_ myself, Shiro.” Keith’s voice became muffled as he rubbed his face into Shiro’s suit. “For screaming into, geez.”

“...Heh.” Shiro relaxed. “Yeah, I know the feeling, I can’t believe it myself.”

“I am so sorry-”

“Why are _you_ sorry?” Shiro chuffed. “However it happened, you saved my life. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me for killing that man.”

“But he _shot_ you, and now you have to drink blood-”

“You can blame one another for your circumstances later.” Kolivan immediately silenced Keith. “What we must do is ensure that Earth knows what they must do when the Galra Empire arrives. We have yet to receive a response from all of the governments your planet seems to have.”

“We should let the Garrison personnel go,” Krolia replied. “As a sign of our peaceful intention. As immediately as possible.”

“And those women pursuing you?”

“I think we can persuade them to make a deal,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Not sure how, though, without me being a factor. Maybe we allow something that might give them something they would find useful to their mission, or the defense of Earth.”

“If so, it can be nothing too sensitive.” Kolivan looked back over at her son and his soulmate. “We must also consider what to do with these two. Your son, at least, is a member of the Blade by his heritage. We could take hi-”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ without my Shiro,” Keith’s eyes flashed yellow as he let out a growl that even took Shiro aback, by the looks of it. “Either we both go, or nothing.”

“…Of course,” Kolivan mumbled. “However, we cannot allow you two such freedom that you would go around killing things indiscriminately to quench your hunger. At the very least you must be monitored lest more effects of your mutation surface.”

“Then I will stay with them.” Krolia steeled herself for the inevitable refusal of her request. “On Earth. I will withdraw from the Blades if need be.”

“…That won’t be necessary.” Kolivan folded his hands behind his back. “If you are _that_ insistent on staying here with your child, you can be our liaison with this planet.”

“I-”

Well, ok, she wasn’t expecting that response.

“Even though I’m wanted by this planet's authorities?” It took her a bit to recover her voice. “The lieutenant will at least insist on having me tried for those animals I apparently eradicated. And if there is a murder involved, I doubt she would be willing to let Keith go, intel or no intel.”

“Then you leave those women to me.” With that, Kolivan turned to leave. “In the meantime, Krolia, I suggest you go prepare yourself for your duty. As for your son…”

He turned to point to Keith and Shiro.

“I suggest _you_ both stay where you are so I might sort this entire mess out.”

With that, Kolivan strode out of the room. Slowly, Krolia went to follow him, but not before she turned to look at her son.

“Wait here.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I will be right back. I promise.”

For once, at least, she was certain she would keep that promise.

* * *

_elipogue_

“Shiro…”

Everything was too much to bear. He wasn’t simply a vampire; he was a mutant alien vampire. Because of course he was. And he made Shiro his soulmate without even realizing it-no input, no asking for permission, not even bothering to ask. Really, it was all his fault.

“Keith.” He felt a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“No.” Keith huffed. “Are you?”

“Not even remotely.”

They both sat in the room, not daring to move, save for Keith when he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Shiro, for his part, simply looked over at him.

“So…soulmates.” Shiro pursed his lips. “If Adam hasn’t broken up with me over what happened over the weekend, he probably will now.”

“Does he know you’re…”

“He didn’t. I didn’t tell him.” Shiro scratched his nose. “But he probably knows now. I doubt anyone on this ship from our planet has a silence filter.”

“Like Matt?”

“_Especially_ not Matt.” Shiro grunted. “I’m regretting letting him know about this beforehand, friend or no.”

“Too late to take it back.”

The two were silent again for what seemed to be an eternity.

“…How do we want to do this?” Shiro broke the silence. “I mean…we’re kind of tied together here in the...metaphorical sense, if not literal sense.”

“Yeah.” Keith looked over at Shiro. “So I guess we talk, or something. If we’re supposed to be soulmates…I mean, we should be open with one another.”

“Yeah.” Shiro paused. “So. About the…medical thing.”

“Yeah?”

“…I guess you’re wondering about that.”

“Just a little.”

“Its…a long story.”

“Well,” Keith motioned to the room. “We’re not exactly leaving any time soon, so feel free to start talking.”

So Shiro talked. Then, Keith talked. It was a long talk. As it continued, they began to learn more about one another. Things that they hadn’t shared before-about Shiro’s love of dogs, about the time Keith jumped off the roof of a foster house to get away from punishment. Their unexpected shared love of the Garrison macaroni and cheese, what little they could both ostensibly now tolerate.

Of course, they didn’t kiss. Even if they were soulmates, they only just really started to know one another. And when they were finally let go and deposited back onto Earth, they each returned to their respective rooms, with Krolia nearby and multiple eyes staring at them while they shuffled by. Everyone knew now; there was no turning back from the truth.

And, of course, Matt had to say something.

“So, if you’re alien vampires-”

No one in the Garrison gave him a chance to finish that sentence, and the response came, not from just Shiro, but from a very irritated and tired chorus of Garrison cadets and officers.

“_Shut up, Matt._”

Not the best start to what was probably going to be a lifelong relationship of some kind-or longer, if the Galra were as long-living as vampires were said to be.

But, as both Keith and Shiro realized as they collapsed into their respective beds, their dreams untroubled by the events of the past week, if only for that one night-it could have been way worse.

_and they lived happily ever after_

**E N D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hominina_ is a subtribe, Shiro. You Tried.
> 
> Anyways, with that, Vampire Sheith Week-and this quick exercise in seeing if I could do a prompt fanfic-is over. May you, too, live happily ever after dripping in peer diamond, and may you avoid the bad vampires in the forest that your parents had tolded you about. Especially if they're named satin. I've heard some weird things about him. 8\
> 
> [herp](https://twitter.com/papirini) \- [derp](underderps.tumblr.com)


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